Failure to Thrive
by jaed621
Summary: After the accident, things are not the same. Rated M, EO Please R and R
1. Chapter 1

Failure to Thrive

Rated M for content and language.

They are not mine but I was compelled to do this…

Thanks for reading, comments are encouraged and appreciated.

She sits in the corner of her sofa staring at the blank television screen. She doesn't turn it on, doesn't want to hear it. She is too full of noise already. An ambulance in the distance makes her squeeze her eyes shut. She covers her ears to keep herself from screaming. It's a long time before she releases them and continues staring at the black screen again. She tightens her robe around her body. She had showered as soon as she got home. There was blood on her hands and clothes. Her blood, his wife's blood and his son's blood, Elliot's unholy trinity of guilt, responsibility and need. She scrubbed until her skin was angry red from the effort and the scalding water. She would never be clean enough to begin again. She couldn't even remember what it felt like to be new.

At first she thought it had been a day about giving. Pieces of herself had to be handed out until there was nothing left. Still, the chaos and crisis continued to crash around her, taking more, demanding more. She kept giving until every hope, every dream, every single thought of him had been handed back to his wife. She can't think about him anymore. She can't talk to him. She can't look at him. In the moment that she held his naked squirming newborn son and the shrieking alarm of his wife's flat line status filled her ears, she knew. Death would be the only way out for him now, until death do us part. He's tied to her forever, to them. He has always belonged to them. She couldn't breathe but the baby started to cry and she grabbed the emergency blanket to try and keep him warm. She turned him into her shoulder so he wouldn't see his mother die. She watched them fight to save her, gripped with a fear that outweighed her entire existence. They had her back before the ambulance hit the hospital bay. Elliot's son was squirming, trying to suck against her neck. She couldn't be what he needed.

When she was in the car Cragen had handed her the phone, _I love you, I love you too._ It was an accident but the sound was reality crashing in, her heart twisting into a mangled unrecognizable ruin, her soul splintering and shattering into a million shiny pieces in the street. The glass and the metal were nothing. Sooth his wife. Calm his wife. Save his wife. Comfort his wife. Help her deliver his child. Listen to him say he loves her. Devastated. Destroyed. Totaled.

She can still hear the sound of the monitor in her ears. She can still see the flat bright green line behind her eyes. She wonders if it's her body trying to tell her that her own heart has stopped beating. She wonders if it will ever beat again.

She followed the gurney through a maze of turns to a room. The nurse kept guiding her but didn't offer to take the child. They kept them all moving, moving, moving. All she wanted to do was lie down. A woman came in wearing gloves with sterile gear and took the baby from her. It left her with nothing to do with her hands. They asked her questions about his wife but she didn't have many answers. She knew the doctors name because they had been on their way to an appointment. Her legs folded beneath her and she sat down. They wanted to help her, to examine her for injuries. The doctor explained that sometimes you didn't realize you were hurt until later. They spoke to her softly like she did to victims. She almost burst out laughing at the absurdity of it. Hurt at the scene? Yes, she was hurt. Fatally injured. Couldn't they hear the monitor? It was already too late. She directed them to his wife, to his child, to the living. She sat and waited. Time was not measurable here. Everything was florescent lights reflected into shiny floors. There were no shadows moving to mark the rise and fall of the day. So she just waited without knowing for how long.

When he came through the door at the end of the hall she jumped to her feet, his name bursting from her lips in relief. She reached out and just as quickly snatched her hand back, cursing the reflex. He looked at her as he passed into his wife's room. She sat back down heavily. She wanted to leave but she knew if he came out and found her gone, he would come find her. She needed this to be completely finished.

He was back before she had time to prepare herself. He walked out and she asked him how the baby was doing. She couldn't call the child his son. She couldn't ask about his wife. He smiled a beautiful smile at the mention of the baby. She tried to smile back. Elliot had been there when the seed was planted and she had been there when the child was born. The sharp irony sliced through her. _Yes doctor, the injuries are definitely fatal._ He started to walk past her and then grabbed her wrist and spun into her. She was all at once shocked, comforted and terrified. He whispered that she was okay. He thought it was a tangible truth. She knew it was an abject lie.

Since he had never hugged her before that in itself felt strange. Not once in all the years they had been together. Not when her throat was slashed, not after Gitano, not even when her mother died. Not once in celebration or comfort. It seemed almost impossible after everything they'd been through together that they never turned to each other. It was very careful planning. She couldn't think with the scent of him still on her so she started to walk. His wife told him she wants to name the baby after him. It strikes her as odd. Why not his first son? She didn't voice her question; she made a crack instead and then left as fast as she could. He said he would see her later. She just said good-bye.

She tried to wait until she got home but the force of holding on caused her to tremble. Her cell phone rang three times. It was Cragen asking why she wasn't seen at the hospital. She told him the doctor saw her upstairs. It was at least partially true. She said she was going to take a couple days off. They told her she would be sore tomorrow and she should probably rest. He had accepted it without hesitation and she quickly got off the phone. Her phone rang twice more, Lake and Stabler. She didn't answer either one. The trembling became a steady shaking, a crumbling reservoir ready to blow. She made it inside the door of her apartment but the tears were coming even as she stripped to get into the shower. The blood on her shirt was crusted against her skin. She felt herself breaking, being crushed as surely as if the car had folded in on her. Crushed by their past, by the events of today and by everything she now knows they will never be to one another. She'd run but there isn't even anywhere for her to go. The water stings and burns as it pelts against her and runs over the small cuts she didn't even know she had. She had started to scrub then, punishing and cleansing herself with every stroke. She sobbed until she couldn't breathe, until she had to step out and throw up from the force of it. She sat on the floor for a long time before pulling on her robe

It's dark outside now and she hasn't moved. She isn't hungry or thirsty but she thinks about getting up and getting a glass of wine. The idea stays in her head but her body still doesn't move. She wants to quiet the noise in her head, stop the scenes that flash on every surface when she steadies her gaze. She wonders when she let her control slip, when her feelings for him grew into such an unmanageable beast. She knows she has only herself to blame. She fed that beast with every smile he gave her, every soft word and piercing glance. The ache in her chest swells painfully and fresh tears spill onto her cheeks. She reaches for the tissue to blow her nose and tries to gather a deep breath.

She watched his child come into this world, encouraged his wife to push and laughed over the sheer joy of the birth. It was a remarkable experience but it cost her everything and then some. His child was real, was here and was waiting to meet his father. It was no longer a vague reference about his pregnant wife. She keeps the images in her head, replays the scene over and over, punishing herself for believing. She pictures him making love to his wife, creating that child until her breath is hitching so hard she thinks she's going to throw up again. She runs to the bathroom and empties what little was left from her stomach. The acidy bile burns her throat but other than noting it she doesn't really care. She rinses her mouth and brushes her teeth. Her reflection in the mirror is a woman she does not know and would never wish to meet. Her eyes are swollen from crying, her face is puffy, her nose is red and a purple bruise has started to show on her jaw and in her hairline. She doesn't remember hitting her head but thinking about it now she must have because she woke up in the car. She touches the spot and is surprised by the pain and the swelling. It's basically hidden by her hair so she drops her bangs back over it. She probably has a concussion. She'll have to stay awake which almost makes her laugh because she's a long way from sleep. Maybe days away. She wipes her face with a cool cloth and goes to the kitchen.

One glass of wine won't kill her and even if it does right now the risk is worth it. She pours a large glass of red and heads back to her perch on the couch. She's going to have to transfer, for good this time. She can't be near him everyday and be able to shut this down. She'll get a new partner, get used to a new partner. Maybe Cragen will let her work with Lake or Fin until she decides where she wants to go. She curls her hand into a fist and pounds it into her knee. GOD DAMN IT! She should never have started spending more time with him after the separation. She knew it was a mistake. All the red flags were there waving furiously in the wind and she just ignored them. The screaming and crashing in her head picks up in volume and she closes her eyes. FUCK! Her head throbs and a wave of nausea washes through her.

She jumps when he knocks on the door. She sits perfectly still and waits for him to leave. Her phone starts ringing again but she doesn't reach for it. She knows it's him and she isn't answering. The last time she completely ignored him she had just ended a man's life. This time she had witnessed a life begin. She's being fucked harder by irony tonight than any man she has ever known. The knocking begins again, grows into a persistent pounding. Nothing in her moves to answer. She pulls her knees tighter against her and listens to him call her name until a neighbor yells at him to knock it off. His fist slams hard into the door, more from frustration than anything at that point. She drags her fingers over the material of her robe and watches as her fingertips move up and down over the soft terrain. She knows how he looks, can see his lips pulled into a tight line and his jaw flexing in anger. His eyes are dark with confusion and hurt. He hates being locked out and not knowing what's happening. She thinks it's too fucking bad. He has no right to be here. He has a home. He has a family. She hates him. God how she wishes she could hate him.

She finally hears his departing steps and begins to breathe again. She wishes she had never left Oregon. It was easier to just miss him. Her chest heaves again and she tries to hold her breath. She swipes out her arm, sending her lamp crashing into the wall. It shatters gloriously, sending fragments in every direction but it doesn't help. The sob rips from her anyway. She turns her face into the pillow to muffle the agonizing wail that claws its way out. She thinks this must be what it feels like to die.

On the other side of the door Elliot stands frozen. He heard the breaking glass and then the most horrible sound. It was more than crying, it was the sound of someone in immeasurable pain. He couldn't imagine it, had never heard anything quite like it. He has never heard anything like it that sounded like her. His heart twists in his chest as though someone is squeezing it, trying to make it burst. He wants to go in, to just bust down the door and go in and pull her up against him. Something went very wrong for her today and he doesn't know what. Suddenly he's afraid, petrified by the realization that he had something to do with the way she sounds. He can't breathe. The air in the hallway is all at once hot and pressing against him. He has to get out of the building. His feet feel heavy, weighted to the floor as though gravity itself is fighting his urge to flee. He's a bastard and he's proven it to himself by standing here because part of him is fascinated by this part of her he doesn't know. He's never heard her cry. He hears the sobbing continue and can picture her now, the image searing into him, branding him with the agony of the moment. He presses his palm to the door once before slowly moving away. He has never in his life felt so helpless. He swipes at the tear on his cheek and looks at his damp fingertip. He's startled by all the extreme emotions that have rocked him in this one day. He needs air.

Once outside he fills his lungs, dragging deeply as though he were coming up from a long dive under water. He has to talk to her, to find out what happened to her. He sits in the car for a while contemplating whether to go back up or to wait until morning. He knows she won't let him in while she's crying. He calms himself by rationalizing that maybe sheer exhaustion will buy her some sleep. There's a hollow ache within him. He feels like someone has reached in and carved some essential part of him out and walked away with it.

Olivia jerks her head up and her eyes pop open. She dozed for just a few moments, the images in her head raging to life in the nightmare. She sits up straight and her head throbs painfully. Her mouth and throat are dry and tight so she gets up to go to the kitchen but the room spins and tilts. She leans on the arm of the sofa for a minute. She wasn't supposed to fall asleep. She touches her head and the swelling has turned into a definite bump, a very tender bump. She slowly moves to the kitchen, rinses out her wine glass and puts it away. If she ends up unconscious on the floor she doesn't want them to think she's drunk. The words _like my mother_ echo in her head and she pushes them away. She clutches the sink until her fingertips are white trying to will the nausea away and steady the room. She grabs a bottle of water and drops the ibuprofen into her pocket. She throws a handful of ice into a towel and heads back into the living room. She needs coffee but that's going to have to wait until everything stops moving quite so much.

She sits down and takes a drink before gently pressing the ice to her head. She feels the cool path of the water all the way to her stomach. She's thirsty but she's afraid if she drinks too much she'll throw up again. She places one foot on the floor to center herself and takes some slow deep breaths. Her neck and shoulders are stiff; her face feels generally swollen from crying. The darkness is dense enough to tell her she is still in the deepest part of the night.

The ice is just about gone and the front of her hair is soaking wet before she trusts her stomach enough to take the ibuprofen. She rests her head on the back cushion and folds the cold wet towel over her puffy eyes. She's a mess, emotionally, mentally and physically. She hurts in places and ways that will never heal. Her eyes sting and ache behind the cloth as they try to produce more tears. She's all cried out. She wants to sleep, to lay her weary body in her bed and sink far enough into the darkness that no images remain. She's tired of thinking but she can't make it stop. The scent of antifreeze, oil and blood seem to linger and she considers showering again even though she knows she's clean. She remembers a moment of quiet when she first opened her eyes. The only sound she heard was a hissing from the engine, beyond that it seemed all of New York was quiet. Maybe she had been somehow deafened by the wall of noise that slammed into her just seconds before. None of it makes sense. It's all jumbled up and tumbling through her, over and over.

She lifts her head and removes the washcloth, she feels a little better. Heading into the kitchen she stops to wash her hands. The soap feels slippery, like the body of his son. The baby squirmed and she had to clutch him with both hands, pull him against her own body still covered in the fluids from his mother. Light flickers in the water and she realizes that it will be dawn soon. The room is tightening its shadows as light begins to force its way in. Her phone rings. He's up early. She wonders if he ever went to bed and then curses herself for wondering anything at all. The phone finally stops ringing.

She needs to get out of here, to clear her head. She needs something that belongs only to her. She puts on coffee and goes to get dressed because she knows there is only one place she has to go.


	2. Chapter 2

Failure to Thrive-Chapter 2

Spoilers for "Paternity"

Disclaimer: They are not mine, just on loan for my amusement…and hopefully yours.

A/N: Thanks so much to all of you that reviewed the first chapter, your words of encouragement were greatly appreciated.

Olivia toes the grass with the tip of her shoe and digs her hands deeper into her pockets. She feels a little light headed and her vision slides too slowly when she turns her head quickly. She squats down and presses her hand against the cool marble seeking some relief from all the things raging inside her. There's a small sad smile on her lips.

She sits down and pulls her knees up against her, staring intently at her mothers name cut with perfectly linear lines. It feels hard and unforgiving.

"I'm sorry mom. If you were hurting like this I….I wish I had been kinder." She squeezes her eyes shut not sure of her actual beliefs but hoping it matters that she's here. "I fucked up." In her head she can see her mother's sympathetic smile. Her mother knew all about the things in life that could tear you up without actually killing you. She knew about events that could deform and scar you in ways other people couldn't see. Sometimes crippling comes without the breaking of bones. Her mother would usually listen when Olivia wanted to talk, mostly because Olivia only did so when she knew she was sober. If Olivia used too much profanity her mother would sigh heavily and ask her if her education didn't arm her with a better vocabulary. She drops her forehead to her knee, feeling the cold of the earth climb up into her. Things were so much simpler then. Her problems were a bounced check, a fender bender, a date so bad she just shouldn't have gone at all. She turns her head and brushes her cheek on her jeans and in a flash she feels his jaw as it brushed against her during the hug. The pain spirals in her, ripping to shreds the delicate hold she had on her emotions. The tears start again and she's so tired of them she doesn't even move to wipe them away. She lets them run over her nose and across her cheek to her knee.

"Mom…" She can't say anymore, she just hopes that however this works her mother knows what's happening. She doesn't know what advice her mother would give her but despite her tears a small smile comes to her face. She wouldn't take it anyway. She never had, it was just that for those few moments they were like a normal family. It was a very small family but still connected in all the ways that mattered. They were a mother and daughter talking things over, solving life's problems. It was fragile between them, sometimes it went well and other times it didn't. It was all Olivia had ever known.

She's cold now, the ground is leaching the heat from her body but she doesn't want to go. Her mother was the only person in the world that belonged only to her. She figures that counts for something. Right now it feels like a hell of a lot. Her mind skips over the last year, back to the night things shifted between them. He had been trying to date and it wasn't going well. He walked into the restaurant that night and proclaimed he was done. They had only recently become comfortable talking about it but she was laughing and asking him why. He had stopped and just looked at her in the strangest way, until she was uncomfortable and he noticed. He smiled at her then and just said it was because dating was what everyone told him he should do but it wasn't what he wanted. It had happened in that moment of silence while he looked at her. Something quiet that grew, a tender shoot breaking through the earth and into the light without making a sound.

She tugs at blades of grass as she thinks about it hoping that somehow she can let it go. She's starting to tremble from the cold and fatigue. She can't remember when she ate last, or what. She wonders how hard it is to just wake up and be someone else, to reinvent yourself into a new life. She managed undercover without loosing her mind even though that wasn't a woman she would choose to be. Maybe she has it in her to be someone else. She touches the tombstone and realizes it would be impossible. Her mother never succeeded. No matter whom she tried to be everyday she was being eaten alive from the inside out by the truth. Olivia stands up, wavering slightly while spots of grey dance in her peripheral vision. She looks to the horizon as the rays of morning sun reach between the buildings of Manhattan, the city is already buzzing with life. Standing there at her mother's grave she has never felt so completely alone. She tells her mother good-bye and says she will try not to be such a stranger. It makes her laugh, a morning love session from her old friend irony. She understands her mother better now than when she was alive. She walks slowly to the curb and waves down a cab. She wants another hot shower to warm her up and then maybe she'll be able to sleep for a little while.

Elliot sits in the chair looking at his son, he's not sure the child is his but he knows that either way he is already his father. Somewhere in the last few months he folded the child into his definition of being a father. When Kathy told him she had seen other people while they were separated a small part of him was relieved. She had gone on with her life. He fucked up a lot with women but they were people and some things he knew from watching them. When his wife told him to leave almost three years ago, there had been someone else in her life. She may not have slept with him, she may not have even dated him but someone saw her. Someone saw her as a person, not a wife or mother. Someone treated her in a way he hadn't in a very long time, like she really mattered. That's why she left. She had hope that there might be a future out there without him in which she could be happy again. Someone gave her that hope. It doesn't make him angry but it does make him wonder.

When Kathy opens her eyes Elliot is sitting next to the bed holding the baby. It's early, still dark outside and she's known him long enough to know that means something is on his mind. She holds her breath; sure he's going to go back to the paternity issue.

"Hey, good morning." She smiles at him and waits.

"Good morning." He doesn't look up yet, just smoothes his finger over the baby's cheek.

She sighs heavily, knowing there is no way to get anything from him without just taking it head on. His communication skills have never been his strong suit. "What brings you by so early El?"

He looks up then as though he's been waiting all morning for her to say those exact words. "Now that we have some time alone I'd like you to tell about the accident. Everything you can remember from the time you were hit until I came through the door." She's relieved that it's about the accident but his tone is off, it's his work voice, his cop voice. She wants to ask him why he wants to know but can't bring herself to do it. He has a right to know the events surrounding the baby's birth. What bothers her is that she doesn't think that's why he's asking.

Once Kathy begins to tell him he gets up and sets the baby in the small bed next to hers. When he sits back down it's in the chair next to her bed. He's bent forward with his head in his hands so she can't see his face but he can hear her. Occasionally he asks her detailed questions and it surprises her that he's paying such close attention. She finds that she remembers more as his questions prod her memory. Slowly the events unfold for him and the scene becomes clear in his mind. When it's over he squeezes her hand. The baby starts fussing so he gets up and hands him to his wife to feed. He tells her he has to go into work for a few hours to finish up some paperwork for Cragen and then he'll be back with the rest of the day free. The girls are coming by in a couple of hours and he's bringing the twins in later in the day. She smiles at him as he talks about their children and he's filled with guilt. He wonders how they can mean the world to him and somehow still not be enough.

He whispers good-bye to his son and kisses his wife on the cheek. He calls Olivia again but she doesn't answer the phone. He snaps it shut in frustration and heads out on his first errand. He needs a couple dozen good steaks to take to the firehouse.

Olivia's body hurts and she's not sure now if the doctor actually told her it would or if she made that up for Cragen. Either way she has aches and pains popping up all over the place. Her neck and shoulders hurt whenever she moves, her right arm and left hip are both too stiff and her headache is back with a screaming vengeance. She's freezing, trembling from the inside with chills rooted to her bones. She walks into the apartment once again stripping to get into the shower with tears running down her face. She isn't sure when she started to cry again. It may have been when the cab went by the precinct or the look of the man holding the fair haired toddler at the light, she can't remember. It doesn't really matter anymore. She sees herself in the mirror and cringes, either she's very pale or the bruises have gotten darker, maybe both. There are dark circles under her swollen eyes and they're red from the crying. A dirt stain is smudged across her cheek. It must be from where she wiped at her face waiting for the cab. Her eyes look dark and empty even to her, like the eyes of so many broken women she's seen over the years. She glances down at her hands, at the cuts across her palms and how she's shaking. She carefully removes her holster and hangs it on the back of the door. It seems heavier than she ever remembers it being. She doesn't recall putting it on when she got dressed but it's so much a part of her it must have been automatic.

The hot water rushes over her and her cuts all spring to life, stinging as the water rinses over them again. Her chest is bruised from her seatbelt and she watches the color rise and fall with her breathing. She's still breathing. She touches the bruise and feels her heart beating within her. She half expected not to hear anything at all. The sound of the flat line alarm fills her ears again and she squeezes her eyes shut. She stands there for a long time, until the water starts to run cold and her heart beat gets louder. It takes her a moment to turn off the water and realize that the sound is a steady pounding on her door. For a second she thinks about going to the door as she is and opening it so he can see what he's done to her. She knows she won't do it. The one thing he doesn't need her help with is guilt. She pulls on her robe and towels her hair to keep it from dripping. She fingers her bangs down over the bruise on her head. As she comes out of the bathroom she hears him talking to her. Telling her that he's going to count to three and then break down the door. She hears him count, hears the silent hesitation and then the crash as he shoulders the door. There is a small sound of wood splintering and before she can think she yells out.

"STOP!" The silence swirls around her. She knows that he's standing there, waiting, pumped up with adrenalin and anger. She sighs and walks slowly to the door. She knew he wouldn't give up without a fight. She just doesn't have the energy right now. She turns the locks and the click of the metal sounds deafening in the room. She walks away then because welcoming him in is out of the question.

Elliot sat with the rescue team for over an hour while they recounted the events of the previous day for him. He said he came to thank them for saving the people he loves. It was as close to the truth as he could get without giving anything away. He asked them about the accident, told them he didn't have the reports yet. They are brothers in arms in a big city and they didn't hesitate to sit him down and offer him the professional courtesy of the truth. Kathy's version was filled with emotion and outlined by panic. She was missing large pieces from being in and out of consciousness. These people were trained; they recorded every minute of the event. Olivia had climbed back in the car before they could stop her because no one else could fit and they needed his wife's vitals. She put on Kathy's collar, started her IV line, and covered her as she was cut out of the car. She held her hand and comforted her, kept telling her she was doing a good job. When they took his wife from the car to the ambulance, it was Olivia's name she called out not to leave her. Now they may both scream her name in the dark.

The EMT from the ambulance told him of the ride in, the birth of his son and the near loss of his wife. He assumed the women were friends and commented on how well she did helping to deliver his child, how steady she stayed, how calm. He asked Elliot if his partner was single and without hesitation Elliot told him no, she was very involved. His stomach turned with every detail until he was physically sick. He asked question, he absorbed their graphic answers, each one felt like swallowing glass. They asked about his wife and child and shook his hand when he said they were fine. He thanked them; his eyes appeared to be shining with gratitude. Only he knew he was drowning in pain.

By the time he got in the car he knew she was shutting him out, closing him down and cutting him off completely. His fists curled around the smooth steering wheel, his knuckles white, his grip too tight. He needed to see her and this time he would break down the door if he had to but he was going to see her. She had no right to make this decision without him, to just dismiss him to deal with this alone. They had come too far together. He wanted to believe that but the sound of her came back to him. It made him think of an animal with its leg caught in a trap, wailing in pain but so determined to be free that they would chew through their own limb. He can see the frantic look he knows was in her eyes, the way she must have thought about moving only to realize she couldn't leave. His wife and child were in the car. A sound wrenched from him, a desperate sound of realization. He picked up speed, his heart pumping. He was afraid, more afraid than he had been in the helicopter because the screaming in his head told him this time he may have already lost her. She would chew through everything they had ever been to each other in no time to set herself free. She wouldn't care how much she bled, wouldn't care that she had to limp away. No one knows better than he does how determined she can be.

He has been listening to the water run for a long time, too long for a shower. He isn't completely sure if it's coming from her apartment or the neighbors. He pounds louder. He talks to her through the door, yells and pleads and finally tells her he's going to break the damn door down. He pumps it with his shoulder, hard, one time. On impact he knows that her solid door with two lock is not going to break for him. He hears her yell from the other side of the door and freezes. The silence stretches on for so long he thinks for a second it was a figment of his imagination. He's breathing hard, worked up from the ride over and his anger at her ability to ignore him. He tries to hear above the rushing sound in his ears and just as he is about to lunge at the door again he hears the click of the first lock. He stands perfectly still as the second one is turned and the bolt slides back. He takes a deep breath; all the ranting and ruminating from the last 24 hours have left him with a lot to say. He waits, but when she doesn't open the door he turns the knob and opens it just enough to step inside. At the sight of her every word inside him turns to dust.


	3. Chapter 3

Failure to Thrive-Chapter 3

Spoilers for "Paternity"

A/N: I haven't abandoned my other stories, this one has just gripped me and is kind of spilling out so sit tight, I'll get back to them. As always thanks for reading and your comments are welcomed and appreciated. To those that have sent notes on the previous chapters, thank you very much. You have been so kind, it really means a lot to me. Happy Holidays everyone, whatever yours may be.

Elliot feels like all the oxygen has been sucked from the room. He draws in deeply but his chest stays tight as though he isn't getting any air. Olivia stands not far from the window and even though she has the blinds drawn there's plenty of light to see her. His mind can't grasp that this is the same woman that walked out of the hospital with him yesterday. His eyes moved over her slowly, cataloging the changes. She obviously hasn't slept and from her pale complexion he'd guess she hasn't eaten either. He can tell she has been crying and her hair is soaking wet so it was her he heard in the shower. There's a bruise along her jaw or maybe it's a burn from the air bag he isn't sure. She's wavering slightly as she stands as though any second she might crumple to the floor. Her hands that had held a gun steady at his side for eight years are shaking. She looks fragile, beaten and as much as he doesn't want to believe it, broken. Beyond all the superficial observations it's her eyes that cause his guts to twist, there's no light in them at all.

He takes a step toward her and she puts out her hand to stop him, the cuts on her palm flashing in the gesture. She looks as though she's in shock. Her hair falls in front of her eyes as she sways and she pushes it back with an irritated flick of her wrist. His gaze moves to the lump on her forehead and his features gather in an expression of concern. It's purple and swollen and he wonders how it could have been missed yesterday. He looked at her at the hospital, hugged her to him while he absorbed the warmth of her. Did she have these injuries then and he was too distracted to notice?

"Liv, you need a doctor." It's all he can manage to say.

She laughs and the hollow sound releases a chill that crawls up his spine. "You, Elliot, are the last person on earth that should be telling me what I need." Her voice is a hissing blade drawn over his skin.

"Let me take you to see someone." He keeps his tone low and soothing and his hand is out to the side. He's approaching her like he expects her to take flight.

"Go take care of your family Elliot. I don't need your help. I don't need you. I just have to get some sleep." Her words sting as they strike him but the delivery is void of any hint of emotion. He feels like she's gone, like she has been snatched from her body and replaced by some automated nonhuman recording. He thinks of late night horror movies with his kids and scenes filled with aliens and zombies. She's all that rolled into one.

"Liv, you need more than sleep. That head injury…"

"STOP calling me that." The words come hard and heavy this time, stones thrown with some effort. He pauses because he knows the name is one of those items on a long list of things she has already taken back from him.

"Olivia, please. I'm going to call Casey and have her come take you then. It doesn't have to be me, but you need to go." He's reaching for the phone as he speaks but the change in her voice stops him.

"I am Detective Olivia Benson, and nothing more. What's wrong with me can't be fixed." The sound of her is small this time and there's a rhythm like tortured soldiers that keep repeating their name and rank. Her words burn through him, raging along his insides and disintegrating everything in their path. He curls his hands into loose fists. He wants to grab her, to shake her until she really looks at him, to tell her that she is so much more. She is so much more to him.

Olivia wants him to stop saying her name. It's bad enough that he's here, the scent of him filling her room and making her dizzy. It's bad enough that she has to hear the sound of his voice at all but she can't bear to hear him say her name. She isn't that person to him anymore. Liv steals his chili fries and has changed his bandages. Liv buys him coffee and has slept next to him in the crib. Liv knows the sound of his laugh and every dumb joke in his repertoire. Liv knows his mood by the color of his eyes and the arrangement of his stance. Liv has had fantasies about him and comes moaning his name from her bed. She can't be Liv, not now, not ever again. She is Olivia Benson, his partner and she's going to change that too. Her shoulders start to tremble as though she is going to cry but it's just a response from her body now.

"Don't dial that phone Elliot. I'm not going anywhere with you, with Casey or anybody else. I'm not your responsibility. You need to leave. You need to leave and never come back." He takes a step closer and her eyes are so dark they look bottomless, like those underground caves you can drop a penny into and never hear it hit bottom. He wants so badly to hold her, to tell her that she's wrong in what she thinks. He can't go and never come back. She might as well shoot him. He thinks about his children and the unbearable weight of love and responsibility. He thinks about his wife and how he felt in the moment he thought he had lost her. He wants it to be enough, god knows he does, but it isn't. None of it is enough to keep him if the cost becomes her. He wonders what kind of man he is that would trade his life for this one woman. He's going to hell, looking up at her it's possible he's already there.

"Liv…" He stops because she flinches as though he struck her and he can't keep the tears from pooling in his eyes. He clears his throat and tries again. "Olivia, I know what happened yesterday."

The sound she makes is a small brittle cry, her dark eyes resting on him once again. "You may have a handful of facts but I promise you, you have no fucking idea what it was like for me out there. None. Don't pretend that you do." She turns toward the window and even though there is no view she stares, watching something of her own.

"Then tell me." He isn't reaching her and the desperate feeling that he has to soon sweeps through him.

"No." She doesn't turn and that bothers him more than her refusal.

"Olivia, we can figure this out…" She turns now and cuts him off mid sentence.

"_**We**_ are not doing anything. I've already figured this out by myself and I know what I have to do." Her eyes swim in her pale face.

"Don't leave me again Liv, all I'm asking for is a little time. Yesterday wasn't supposed to happen but since it did there are things I have to tell you." He's holding her gaze but his eyes drop to her lip when it starts to quiver and he knows she's trying not to cry.

"I told you not to call me that." She doesn't move, doesn't blink.

He sees the faintest flicker and continues with his voice low and his eyes fixed on hers. "I'm not going to stop calling you Liv. It's who you are to me and you can't take that away, whether you're here or 3000 miles away you're still my Liv. You already tried running, it didn't fix anything. Let's try something else." He watches as she blinks and pushes the tears over the edge and onto her cheeks.

"**You have NO right." **Her eyes close for a moment and she puts her hand out, grasping the air to balance herself. She takes a deep breath to force the nausea back down and tries again. "You have no right to call me yours. I'm not yours, I'm not anybody's. You…you belong to your wife and children and you always will. There isn't anything for us to try. I can't do this, I can't…" She falls quiet and he steps closer, reaching out he touches the tip of her chin with his fingers and turns her face to his.

Her arms wrap around herself, her hands clutching fists full of her robe to give her the sense of holding on to something. His eyes are turbulent, the color shifting and moving. It reminds her of the ocean just before a storm when small white capped waves only hint at the powerful forces brewing. Staring into them makes her feel like she's floating, makes her wish the salty taste on her lips was a kiss from the ocean and not her own tears.

"Liv, I love you, I…" She spins out of his grasp, her shoulders clench as a choking sob wrenches from her. She takes a step, tries to speak and then as though someone has cut the strings holding her together she collapses to the floor.

Elliot's world drops in to slow motion as her body folds and falls. He reaches out, the soft fabric of her robe dragging against his fingers, just beyond his grasp. He turns her over and checks for her pulse, it's weak and thready. He dials 911 and manages to state her address and who they are along with her condition. His voice is high and panicky and he doesn't recognize the sound of it as his own. His mouth is too dry and he has to think to speak clearly. He pulls her up against him even though he knows he shouldn't move her. She feels so cold it scares him.

"Don't do this Liv, please don't do this. I love you, god help me I love you so much and I've fucked this all up so badly." He wipes at his face and starts to pray. He's bargaining with god for her life for the second time in 24 hours. The sound of the helicopter echoes in his ears. He prays for a chance to make things right and swears if he gets it his future will be filled with nothing but the truth. He brushes the hair from her eyes and pulls her robe over her legs. He whispers to her and brushes her cheek much like he had the baby just a few hours earlier. He slides his touch to her neck so he can feel her pulse and he breaths a little when it taps against his finger tips.

He hears the crew with their metal cart clanging along as they jog down the hall toward them. He calls out and they come bursting into the room. He tells them about the accident and the bump on her head and then rushes to grab her gym bag from her room. He stuffs a change of cloths into it, pauses at her underwear drawer for just a second before grabbing a pair and adding them to the bag. He gets her wallet and for reasons he can't explain he puts her badge in his pocket and heads back out to the living room. They already have her on the gurney and an I.V. in her arm. He picks up her keys and follows them out the door. He hears them rattling off her vitals and the numbers are far too low. He climbs in the ambulance recalling all the rides he has taken with victims and how different it feels now. He can hear his heart slamming in his chest as his hand takes hers, squeezing it gently. He looks at the tech, not really hearing as he talks to the hospital on his radio.

"Why isn't she waking up?" His voice cracks and he swallows hard to hold onto the swell of fear building in his chest.

"I'm not really sure right now. It could be the head injury but we'll know more once they run some tests at the hospital." He keeps working and Elliot knows that his job is to keep the rider calm and give as little information as possible. He wants to yell at the guy, tell him that he can take the truth but he stays silent because he's really not sure that he can.

"She hasn't slept and probably hasn't eaten in the last 24 to 30 hours." He watches the tech take notes on his clip board and check the machines again. The vehicle is swerving, they're going fast, with full lights and sirens and Elliot wonders if it's because she's one of their own or because her condition warrants it. He laces his fingers between hers and tries to picture her hands in motion, curling around her cup of tea, brushing her bangs from her eyes and drawing her weapon. Her hand is limp in his grasp, lifeless in a way that curdles the fear within him into panic.

"Isn't there anything else you can do?" He knows the answer and still he asks the question. He thinks he must look like all the other people he's questioned in the emergency room, worried, terrified and so lost. Now he knows why they ask the questions they do, to keep time moving, to feel like they're doing something. He drops his head, amazed at what a fool he's been. He thinks about how sometimes you make changes in life and sometimes it just changes you without your consent.

"Not until we get to the hospital. They'll want to do a CT scan of her head to find out what's going on and then they'll be able to tell you more." Elliot slides out his foot to steady himself on the waffled metal floor as they take a turn. He wonders how it can be that the warm glow of her skin has faded to such a pale shade. He feels the bump of the driveway and knows they're approaching the ambulance bay. He kisses the back of her hand before gently laying it back by her side and gets ready to exit.

They have taken her from him and he paces with compulsive steps in the room where he waits. It already seems like it's been too long. In his pocket his fingers curl around her badge. His thumb brushes over the familiar emblem to the spot where her badge number is engraved. He hates waiting and as Olivia has pointed out in the past, he does it very poorly. He asks god not to take her from him. He barters with his own life and sanity. He pleads and begs and apologizes for not being a better man. He bargains a lot.

In the helicopter he had bargained too. He knows what his sin was then because the first name that came to him was Olivia's. It was as automatic as breathing and blinking. He had prayed for his child too. A child his wife was giving him whether it was his or not. A child he had yet to meet or know but was already a part of his life. Then he had prayed for Kathy. He had asked god not to take his wife because he didn't want his children to be without their mother. Those were the words his heart muttered. He loved them all, separately and differently but the distinctions were clear. The truth had slowly sliced through him in that long ride over the city. Now he knew that while he was absorbing how completely he couldn't live without her, she was convincing herself that she could never have him. He stops mid-stride and holds his breath, trying to keep the tears from coming. When did it get so fucked up? How far back would he have to go to find the moment?

He remembers when Kathy came to the precinct to talk to him. He remembers how she started out telling him she needed him to come back for her, just for her. He had been watching her, surprised by her appearance and sudden change of heart. He was still Elliot, still a Manhattan SVU detective. His hours and life were not likely to change and neither was he. He was about to explain all that to her, tell her how now that it was done he could see that she had been right about the divorce being better for everyone. His mouth had opened to speak when she said the magic word, pregnant. He had felt life change him then, fold back twenty years and slam him up against a wall with brutal force. It had knocked the air out of him, taking not just his ability to breathe but his choices as well. Of course he'd go home. Even after he committed to it he knew that although in theory it was the right thing to do, it didn't feel like it. He needed to ask her if she would have come to him that day if she hadn't found out about the baby. He knew the answer but it was asking her the question that was important.

He sits heavily in one of the chairs and leans his head back against the wall. Images of Olivia fill every part of him. He tries to remember the last time he heard her laugh but nothing comes to him. He thinks about her smile, how easily it came on some days and how hard he had to work for it on others. He wants to see it now. He wants to tell her he has that kidney ready if she needs it so he can see the corners of her mouth lift in amusement. He wants so much. He checks his watch and calls Maureen, asks her to go pick up the twins and take them to the hospital to see their new brother. He tells her he's tied up with an emergency and gets off the phone as quickly as he can.

He closes his eyes and his mind goes back to that moment in the helicopter, that moment he chose without thinking. A future without Kathy would be hard, painful and devastating to his children. He's known her almost his entire life and her loss would be the hardest thing he has ever done. The difference was when he thought of Olivia, well, his mind wouldn't even go there. He couldn't pull up a life without her. It was like looking in her eyes this morning, a bottomless abyss so vast and so dark that falling in meant you would never find your way out.

A shadow falls over him and when he looks up a very weary older man stands before him in scrubs. He sighs heavily and smoothes his hand over his bald head.

"Detective Stabler?" His voice is strong and Elliot stands immediately, forcing the doctor to back up a step. He needs to be on his feet, needs to feel the solid ground so he can be ready to move if he needs to.

"I'm Doctor Meyers, Olivia's test show that yesterday's accident caused a very small bleed in her brain that has slowly been building. It appears to have stopped and right now we aren't going to do anything but observe her. If the swelling gets any worse we may have to go in and relieve the pressure. If it has stopped, like it appears to have, then we should see the swelling start to go down. She was dehydrated when she came in but we have her on fluids for that. Do you know if she has any other medical conditions?"

Elliot is staring at him, trying to take the words in and process them. "No, she's absolutely healthy. Is she awake?" He needs to see her, to see for himself that she's going to be fine, to touch her skin and have it feel warm under his fingers.

"No, she's still unconscious. Head injuries are tricky, different people respond in different ways. She could wake up at any time but we'd like to see it happen sooner rather than later. We also have to take into account that she was exhausted when she came in so her body needs some time to catch up. The next 24 hours are going to answer most of these questions for us. Let's get through them and see how she's doing in the morning."

A nurse walks up and hands the doctor a clipboard and he thanks her and turns back to Elliot. "You're listed as her next of kin so you're going to have to sign some documents in the event we have to operate." He hands him the clip board and a pen as though this is something Elliot has done every day. Her next of kin. He looks at the forms, there are terms typed in the blanks that mean nothing to him. He knows that by signing this he's telling them they can cut into her head if they decide that's what she needs. His hand is shaking but he manages to scrawl his name on the lines. The condescending nod the doctor gives him when he sees him sign feels to Elliot like he has just patted him on the head and mumbled _good boy._ He resists the urge to bunch up his shoulder and explain to this man that if he harms her in any way his life won't be worth living.

He holds the board out to Dr. Meyers but doesn't let go when he tugs at it. He waits until he's sure he has the man's undivided attention. "I want to see her." Despite the simple request it sounds somehow threatening.

"No problem, I'll walk you down to her room." Elliot follows him blindly, so much swimming in his head he's actually glad for the escort. When he walks in her room he smiles a little for the first time. She looks like Sleeping Beauty to him and he knows she'd punch him for even thinking it. She has a little of her color back and her hair has dried with a soft wave that frames her face. He watches her eyes move under the lids and her dark lashes resting against her cheek. He hopes she's having a peaceful dream. He sits in the chair, wondering why they don't buy something more comfortable when they know people are going to spend a lot of time in it. He takes her hand and watches her breathe, settles in to his spot. He isn't going anywhere, not now, not ever. Now if she would just open her eyes so he could tell her, that would be perfect. He stands for a second and looks around, seeing no one he leans down and gently kisses her on the lips. When she doesn't open her eyes he laughs and takes his seat once again.

"Okay Liv, I know we aren't the fairytale ending kind of people so I'll just sit right here and wait for you."


	4. Chapter 4

Failure to Thrive Chapter 4

Spoilers for "Paternity"

Disclaimer: The hospital staff is mine and we all know who the rest belong to now don't we?

A/N: As always thanks so much for reading, your comments are always both welcomed and appreciated. I am very grateful to all those that have reviewed and shown their support for this story. It really means a lot to know you are enjoying it.

Elliot plays with her fingers, taking time to examine her hands and wishing she would wake and ask him what the hell he thought he was doing. He really has no idea. He smoothes his thumb over her palm wondering which crease is her life line. The nurse told him he could talk to her, should talk to her. They believe she can hear even if she doesn't respond. He whispers, pretending that she's just sleeping and trying to ease his own fears.

"I called Cragen and told him you were here. He's pretty pissed that you lied to him about getting checked out at the hospital yesterday. You can expect a lecture when you see him. I know you need your rest Liv but I'd really like you to open your eyes. I'll take you home and you can sleep in your own bed." He stops because the idea of him laying her in her bed conjures up a rush of other visuals. She's naked in most of them. He's knows he shouldn't be thinking this way about her but he can't help it. He's been suppressing all his thoughts about her since the moment Kathy told him she was pregnant. Kathy. He knows he has to call her and tell her where he is and more importantly he knows they have to talk. It isn't a matter of courage anymore, and maybe it never was. Maybe leaving is more about knowing where you want to go than it is releasing what you leave behind.

"Liv, you have to listen to me very carefully. Things are not the way you think. I'm going to fix this mess that I let us all get into. I just need you to have a little faith in me, just a little." He smiles because he knows the look she would be giving him right now. "I brought you some clothes. I didn't think you'd want to go home in your robe. For the record you have some damn sexy underwear." He watches her face closely because he said the last part on purpose. If anything's going to make her sit bolt upright in indignation it'll be the idea of him going through her underwear drawer. She doesn't move and he tries not to be disappointed. She has already gotten more rest this morning than she has in the last week. He tells himself its good for her, good for her body to heal. He watches her face, the arch of her brows, the curl of her lashes and the smooth skin of her cheek. He's engrossed in this indulgence, lost in her plump lower lip and how it would feel against his own when someone places a hand on his shoulder. He jumps and turns and the nurse smiles at him.

"I'd tell you that our adage here is that a watched patient never wakes but I don't think you'd care. You know, like a watched pot never boils? Anyway you look like you'd be happy to watch her all day and night whether it helped or not. I can see why, she's beautiful." Elliot's staring at her and only half listening. The woman just babbles along as though she knows him. By the time he pulls himself together and pays attention, he hears her comment on Olivia's beauty.

His fingertips graze her cheek. "Yes, she is." He wonders why he never told her, not during work but during those dinners while he was separated. He's thought it a thousand times, noticed her beauty in each detail of her face and yet he never told her.

"You know if you don't want to leave her I could order you a food tray. You do need to eat. It won't do her any good for you to end up in the bed next to her. The dinners here are bland but the lunches and sandwiches aren't bad. I can call down and order a lunch tray before the cafeteria closes for dinner prep." She looks at him expectantly her head cocked awaiting his reply. She reminds him of his aunt, older with a kind nonthreatening face that makes it easy to get people to cooperate.

"Sure, a sandwich would be great thanks and some coffee if it's not too much trouble." He smiles at her and she nods her head in approval.

"No problem, I'll take care of it." Elliot watches as she moistens Olivia's lips with a damp cloth and checks all her vitals.

"How's she doing?" He wants to hear that there's been some change, some flicker in numbers that will indicate she'll be returning soon.

"She's about the same. I wish we could give you more than that but a condition like this is unpredictable. I'm sure having you here is helping though; it's proven that patients with family around get better quicker. They found that out years ago, after World War II when so many babies were left in orphanages and there weren't enough workers to help with them all. The infants that were held survived but the ones that didn't get a chance to bond with anyone died within days. We refer to it in babies as a failure to thrive but since those statistics from the orphanages were released doctors have looked at how much interaction helps in everyone's ability to heal. You keep talking to her." She pats him on the shoulder as she walks by and he smiles. He wasn't expecting the history lesson but she seems the type to always be teaching and explaining. He's used to Olivia's quiet ways and the volumes they say just by looking at each other across their desks.

He decides he should take a minute to call Kathy so that he can relax and stop thinking about it. He walks to the other side of the room. He doesn't want to disturb Olivia with the call but he wants to be where he can still see her. She answers the phone right away and it surprises him.

"Hello." Her voice is tired and it gives him a small pang of guilt.

"Hi Kath it's me." He doesn't know why he's whispering. He remembers the weight of the baby in his arms.

"Elliot where are you? Maureen called and said she'd be bringing the twins by in a little while." She's casual but he can hear the underlying tremble in her voice.

"How's the baby?" He needs a minute to settle down.

"He's fine, I just fed him and he's taking a little nap. I'm going to shut my eyes for a few minutes too before the kids get here." She knows something is off, she can feel it in the texture of the silence. "El?"

"I'm at the hospital in Manhattan with Olivia, apparently she hit her head in the accident and no one was aware of it. She has a bleed on the brain but they think it's stopped. She's unconscious and they can't really say when she'll come out of it." There's a long silence while his wife processes the information. Olivia was injured. All those things she did with a level head and a cool hand were done while she was injured. Her priority was helping them. Kathy knows she has no choice in her answer.

"Elliot, don't worry about us. We're fine, I have Maureen and my mother is coming by later. Stay there and make sure she's alright." It's the right thing to say and it's the right thing to do but her stomach rolls slowly inside her as she speaks. She wants to say that she knows Olivia has no one but him, but the statement feels too heavy with truth for her to utter.

"Okay, I'll call if anything changes. Kiss the baby for me and tell the kids I'll see them later." There will be time enough for them to talk about the rest of it later. He wonders if she can feel it, his hands sliding off of her, his fingers letting it all go.

"I will, bye El." He mumbles good bye and shuts his phone. He stares at it for a long time before taking his seat next to the bed.

The nurse's words return to him as he looks at Olivia. He leans closer to the bed so he can continue to whisper to her and takes her hand again. "Is that what this is Liv? Are you slipping away from me because of a failure to thrive? Because you know that's bullshit don't you? We've been bonding since the day we met. Sometimes when Cragen asks us a question at work I know what you're going to say before I know my own answer. We're more than bonded, whatever that is, blended or bound. I don't know but you're not alone in this. If you think you can just slip away from me you're wrong. I won't let you go. Do you hear me? **I'm not letting go Liv.**" He can feel the sting of tears in his eyes and he swallows and breathes deeply to let them subside. He thinks of how tied together they really are in everything they do. How her stride is the exact same length as his, how they always know when they enter a room where the other one is going to go without discussing it. How one of them will turn to the other and wait because they can feel the turmoil and know something is wrong. There are a hundred small things that filter through his brain that they know about one another without ever having a discussion.

"Liv, Cragen had us go see that shrink because he wanted to know if we were too close to be able to do our jobs. I wanted to tell them that we have been this close, we just used to be better at hiding it." He closes his eyes for a moment and lets his head swim in the darkness. He remembers the inky pools her eyes had become earlier and he pictures himself sinking into them. Floating in the darkness he reaches out, trying to feel her, to find her so he can bring her back. The banging of the food cart jolts him back and he opens his eyes. A young woman slides the tray onto the bedside table and hurries on to the next room. His stomach growls as the scent of the food hits him and he realizes how hungry he really is.

He pulls the tray in front of him and takes off the lid. "Liv, I can't believe you're going to miss this gourmet hospital sandwich. It's…" He lifts the top piece of bread and looks at the meat, making a face of confusion. "It's chicken or turkey or some kind of white meat. I think I'll try the coffee first." He takes a sip and makes a face. "Okay now you have to get up, this coffee may be worse than Munchs'." He laughs softly knowing she would enjoy this conversation, well if she wasn't all pissed off at him she would.

He eats his sandwich and drinks the bad coffee and thinks about his children. He pictures his daughters and the way their hair falls across their eyes. He wonders if their distance and hostility in the world are because they grew up with parents who lost each other along the way. He worries that the example he has given them of marriage has left them with the idea that it's okay to settle. He wishes for the first time in his life that he knew someone he could talk to, another divorced father. He wants to hear someone tell him that their kids were okay living a divided life. He wants to hear that they not only survived but did well. He wants to believe that leaving his wife is not the same as leaving his family. His mouth is dry and the bread sticks to his teeth as he chews, he'd like to have a beer to wash it down. Guilt swells within him and he wonders if the beer would wash that down too.

He remembers standing in the locker room and seeing the fear in Kathy's eyes when she told him she was pregnant. At that moment he saw her the same way he had so many years before when she was just a girl. Two decades ago she was afraid that he would leave her to raise the child alone. The fear he saw in her this time was different. She knew he would rise to the responsibility of being a father, it was built into him. This time her fear was about something else. He thinks about going to the other hospital and talking to Kathy now while his words are fresh and free flowing. He thinks that he may be able to say what he really means. He wonders what scared her out there in the world so badly that she would return to a life that doesn't make her happy, but feels safe. He wants to ask her, to tell her it's worth it to try again with someone new. Even as he thinks it he feels like a hypocrite. Maybe he isn't ready to talk to her yet after all.

He pushes the empty tray away and turns his gaze back to Olivia. She hasn't moved in several hours and it makes him feels like they're trapped in some time lapse within these walls. He has never seen her so still, not even sleeping in the crib. There's always a movement to her, her hand twitching, her fingers fluttering or her eyes moving beneath her lids. He has watched her sleep before when she was unaware of his eyes. The pale light of the high windows in the crib illuminated her skin for him to see when he shouldn't have been looking. His head kept time by the rise and fall of her breast in the dark. He fought sleep then, ordered to take a couple of hours after days of being awake he pressed all his weight against his consciousness to steal those few moments of looking without being caught. He would look until his eyes burned and his body betrayed him by succumbing to sleep. She looks different to him now, like she has stopped dreaming and settled into the murky bottom of some place deep within herself.

He stands and stretches next to the bed, twisting his back as it pops. He strokes her cheek and takes the cloth on her table and wets her lips the way the nurse had done earlier. It makes him feel useful to tend to her even though he knows she would have a fit if she knew. He lets his fingers slide into her hair and brushes it away from her face. "Olivia you should have let me in yesterday. You didn't have to go through this alone. You always act like you're alone in the world and the truth is you haven't really been alone in a long time. I'm not leaving and this time I'm not letting you run. Yes, you heard me correctly; I said I'm not letting you run. Go ahead and get up and kick my ass." He's laughing softly but his smile soon fades as his own voice bounces around the room.

"You know I didn't expect it when you left. I know we were having problems but we had survived our fair share over the years. You were always haunted by the faces of the victims. Every child whether we saved them, helped them or brought them justice still lives with you and I'm sure part of you lives in them. You took all that on and all the shit at the department and you still came back fighting. I know sometimes it was too much. There were nights you didn't sleep at all, just paced until you had some new angle to follow. I know you drank to blur all the images in your head and dull the pain to a livable ache, sometimes I was with you but it was always a temporary fix. I know what this job has cost you. I still never thought you'd leave. I just thought that was something we said to one another to snap the other one back into shape. I thought it was our way of drawing a line in the sand. I knew the cases were hard, I knew I was being an ass, I did, but when I found out you were gone I couldn't have been more surprised. You changed the rules without telling me on that one." He releases the tight grip he has on her bedrail and cups her chin in his palm. His thumb slides over her cheek and he tries to relax and pretend that touching her like this is familiar.

The chatty grey haired nurse bounds back into the room and smiles at him. She goes to a dry erase board at the end of the bed where Elliot notices for the first time a list of the people caring for her. She wipes out the name next to RN and writes in Anne. "I'm going off shift now and Anne will be coming in to check on her for the afternoon. I'm back on in the morning so I suspect I'll see you then. If you have any questions just ask for Anne at the nurse's station or hit the page button. I took the liberty of ordering you a dinner tray. It's meatloaf tonight and it's actually almost edible." She laughs with amusement at her own words and goes about checking on Olivia's vitals once again. He manages to mumble a thank you as he watches her. Her expression doesn't change as she writes the new numbers into the chart. There are no words of hope as he waits expectantly for her to comment. She turns to leave and he can't contain himself.

"How's she doing?" She smiles brightly at him and he recognizes the forced smile he has used himself when talking to families.

"She's the same which isn't necessarily a bad thing. Would you like some more coffee? The cafeteria is closed but we have some in the nurse's lounge." She's still smiling but it no longer makes him feel any better. What he thought was optimism has turned out to be her coping mechanism.

"Yes, more coffee would be great, thanks. Do you know when the doctor might be by again?" He's hoping to find someone that can tell him something more.

"Actually he's in surgery now but he usually looks in on his patients before he goes home. Unfortunately that's usually at two or three in the morning. If there's something you think she needs we can leave a note in her chart for him."

"If she hasn't woken up by that time, I'll still be here. I have no intention of leaving until I know she's okay." She locks eyes with him and knows there's no use arguing with him. She's seen that look before and she knows what it means. She pats his arm and heads out to get him his coffee.

This cup of coffee is remarkably better than the last and he's grateful long after she's gone.

He stares hard at Olivia's face as though she's hiding something he needs to understand. He's looking for an expression where there is none and the realization causes a weight to settle in him. "It really started with Gitano didn't it? That was really the first time you left. Even though we saved that child, we lost a lot in that warehouse. I certainly lost perspective and you lost your objectivity but we gained something too didn't we Liv? We just never talked about it. I told you how much you meant to me and then you were gone."

He reaches for her hand and her fingers twitch. He squeezes and waits but she remains still.

"You're trying to come back aren't you? Come on Liv, I'm right here waiting." He watches her carefully but she remains still. "Okay, have it your way, I'll wait some more." He sits for a long time, turning on the light above her bed when the room begins to grow dark. His eyes are intense and his jaw is tight as he filters through the last eight years searching for clues. Clues that were there all along but he couldn't read them. There are things married men are not supposed to know. He isn't supposed to know how she looks when she sleeps. He isn't supposed to know how the dimples at the base of her back look when she's reaching for something and her shirt rides up. He isn't supposed to know she hums in pleasure from deep in her throat after a bite of a good brownie. He isn't supposed to know how she watches him when she thinks he isn't paying attention. Because if he did know these things he could put them together and imagine how she would feel and sound beneath him. Because he could conjure up exactly how she would feel in his hands and how her body would rise to meet his as he plunged deeper into her. He tightly squeezes his eyes closed. There are things married men are not supposed to know.

He's jarred back to the moment by a young man entering the room. To Elliot he looks too young to work in a hospital. He releases the breaks on one side of the bed and begins hanging her I.V. on a pole attached to the frame.

"What are you doing?" Elliot knows his tone is harsher than it should be but the fact this kid is handling her bed as though he's going to take her somewhere is bothering him.

When he looks up at Elliot his pale eyes have the innocence of youth and Elliot immediately softens. He feels like he just yelled at one of his kids. "Sorry sir, I thought someone came in and spoke to you already. She's scheduled for a comparative scan. They want her downstairs before the regular tech leaves for the day. I'll bring her right back up when she's done." He continues preparing the bed for transport as he speaks.

"Can I go with her?" The question is out before he even thinks about it.

"Well you can but when we get down there you'll have to wait in the hall or another waiting area. They won't let you into the actual room." He pops the last break and moves the bed slightly, testing the mobility.

"I'll go and wait with her; at least it'll be a change in our surroundings for a little while." He stands and his body creaks in protest of the hours of sitting. He moves quickly though to keep up with the young boy already wheeling Olivia down the hall.

Elliot paces in the corridor, his fists tight with the anger simmering under his skin. He wants to blame someone for this, to pound someone until the rage in him is spent. All this waiting has him on edge, too on edge. He stops suddenly and laughs, looking like any crazy person on the streets. If Liv were awake she'd be all over him, riding him about his attitude and telling him with one look to clam down. She's the disarming voice in his head.

It's dark outside when they finally gets back to her room. There are two bouquets of flowers on the windowsill. The card on the large colorful burst of wildflowers is from the guys at work. "You have flowers from the precinct. I'd guess Munch was behind it, he always remembers those kinds of things. They should all be off shift soon; the captain said they'd be coming by after they wrapped up the day. Since they were short handed today I figure it'll be later. You can sit up and have a fit about all this attention anytime."

He approaches the bouquet of tulips slowly almost afraid to look at the card. Was there someone he didn't know about in her life? The card is stuck down in the vase and he has to move a flower to read it. He freezes, Kathy. His wife sent flowers. He feels suddenly like he's standing on the edge of a cliff and when he looks down the earth disappears into the darkness. Nausea washes through him and sucks in a long deep breath to fight it. A young red headed girl comes in and leaves a food tray without ever really looking at him. He goes and sits heavily in the chair by her bed, closing his eyes for a moment. His mind is spinning through names and cases. He remembers how she looked when Gitano had the gun to his head. How she almost gave up during the Gorman case, convinced that if she had believed Hilary Barclay from the beginning all those other women wouldn't have been raped. The guilt over that had been harder for her to bear than everyone thinking she had killed Gorman.

He had seen her after she had spent all night on the phone with Maria and then found her buried alive. Even though the child had lived she had been rattled that no one else believed she anything more than a prank. She had stood alone on gut instinct against everyone else in the squad and saved that girl.

They had so many discussions over so many cases. His thoughts keep bouncing around Patty Branson, Annika Bergeron, Sarah Brown, Tommy Hoffman, the Ramsey girls, Maria and Luis Ramos. Some have only first names now, Ashley, Sophie, Jazmin, Gretchen and Ilena but he can still see all their faces and he can still hear the sound of Olivia's voice as she spoke of them. He see's Alex Cabot in his minds eye and wonders if they will ever put and end to Rafael Zapata Gaviria and the cartel so she can come home. Olivia was devastated by the loss of Alex. They had been friends and Olivia let herself get close to her. It was a long time before she laughed again.

Sometimes cases were so difficult they didn't really talk about the case, just the circumstances. They discussed with few words and understood volumes on rape and abortion, capitol punishment and mental illness, embryo donation and adoption and so much more. He knew her opinion on almost any topic. They had waded through a world of human filth together and she never flinched. She had thrown up once that first year and was completely humiliated by it. She thought it was a sign of weakness. He remembers their very first case, a castrated cabbie. As soon as he reaches the beginning it hits him so hard he gasps for a breath and stands up. The chair scrapes the floor as it slides back and his eyes open. He has been such a fool, blinded by the things married men are not supposed to see and tortured by the things they aren't supposed to know. It's been there all along. From the moment she turned toward him in the squad room and Cragen said her name to introduce her. That was their beginning, the partnership. If he was really being honest he had belonged to her from the moment he met her.

He turns around to look at her and is startled to see that her dark eyes are staring back at him.

tbc…


	5. Chapter 5

Failure To Thrive Chapter 5

Disclaimer: Not mine.

Spoilers for "Paternity"

He blinks slowly to make sure she is really looking at him and he has not just imagined what he so badly wants to see. He watches her glance around the room and can see a myriad of emotions churning in the depths of her dark eyes. He can feel her thinking, remembering.

"Elliot, why am I in the hospital?" Her voice is soft, tired sounding and he feels his shoulders fall as the tension he's been holding seeps out of him. He's next to her in one long stride and out of a habit he has developed in the last nine hours, he takes her hand.

"You passed out at your apartment. Apparently during the car accident you hit your head and you've had a small internal bleed since then. The injury combined with the fact you didn't eat or sleep for the next 24 hours caused you to feint. They said you were unconscious and unsure of when you would wake up. I should buzz the nurse." She watches his hands, the one holding hers and how he reaches for the buzzer with the other one so he doesn't have to let go. She feels the heat of his palm and the thickness of his fingers against her skin and wonders exactly when he decided it was okay to touch her.

Olivia's thoughts are swimming through dark waves in her head. She remembers pieces of the accident, Kathy injured and then in labor. The sound of her cries feeling cold and desperate while Olivia had whispered warm words to calm her. Other pieces come to her, the feel of the slippery newborn in her hands, the sound of crunching metal, breaking glass and the flat line wail of a heart monitor. There are flashes in her head. Did she start an I.V. or was it someone putting one in her? She was in the ambulance when the baby was born. She heard Elliot tell his wife that he loved her. The order of events is fuzzy. There was blood swirling down the drain of her shower, her hands were stinging. As she thinks it she lifts her free hand to examine it. There are cuts across her palm. Then as though a damn has been broken the pain floods her, washing through her with force. Her head feels like its throbbing and her eyes burn as the images float within her. Her knees bend slightly and she inadvertently squeezes his hand while she summons the energy to fight the feeling of despair twisting within her. His wife. His baby. His life. An accident that put his world in her hands to be saved as her world bled out around her. She pulls her hand out of his grasp and brings it up to her chest as though it needs distance from him. She sees the flash of hurt in his eyes and looks away from him.

"Elliot, what are you doing here? Why aren't you at the hospital with your wife and baby? They are okay aren't they?" Her voice moves from accusing to confusion to concern.

"They're fine, both of them, thanks to you and I'm here because this is where I want to be." Her arm moves back to her side and he stubbornly slides his hand back into hers. For years his greatest fear was that she would be shot or injured on the job. He would sit bolt upright in bed coated in sweat thinking her blood was on his hands because he had in some way failed her. In the last twenty four hours he has been too aware of all the other ways in which he can lose her and he's not giving up that easily. He feels better touching her which he knows is strange since that form of comfort from her has only come from imaginings in his own head. She turns her head slowly and stares at him almost too intently when a tall African American woman comes bustling in the room but she doesn't pull her hand away again.

"Well, you're awake, that's very good news." She walks up to the side of the bed and smiles warmly at Olivia. "How do you feel?"

"My head hurts and I keep getting waves of nausea but other than that okay." She tries to smile back but it's weak. As Elliot watches the woman removes a penlight from her pocket and checks Olivia's eyes. He realizes that she's a doctor and not the nurse as he first thought. He wonders what the doctor can see when she looks into Olivia like that. He wonders if the images of horror she carries are reflected somewhere on the back of her eyes.

"Do you know why you're here?" There's a quiet authority in her voice that catches Elliot's attention.

"Yes, because I hit my head in an accident yesterday and passed out some time today." She looks down quickly and Elliot realizes she just bluffed the time frame. He would bet she isn't really sure how long ago the accident was but made an educated guess. If she remembered the morning at all she would have registered that he was in the same clothes. He knows she's that quick and that observant.

"She knows that much because I told her just a moment ago." Elliot's voice fills the room and both women turn to look at him as though they had forgotten he was there. The doctor is surprised and Olivia is just pissed.

"Okay let's start this from the beginning. I'm Doctor Andrews; can you tell me your name?" She stares hard at Olivia and Elliot realizes this is going to be an interesting match.

"Detective Olivia Benson." Olivia rolls her eyes hard and then winces just slightly from the motion.

"Detective? It must have been a stroke of luck that you went into the force after your mother named you Detective." Elliot starts to chuckle and Olivia shoots him a dirty look.

"I hope you're a better doctor than you are a comedian." Olivia tips up her chin and Elliot tries to quiet his laughter but he knows that look.

"Sarcasm, check. Let's try a few other things. Do you know who the current president is?"

"Yes, but I don't like him. Does that count?" Now she sounds petulant. "George W. Bush."

"Do you know what day it is? Keep your eyes on my light, follow it." She continues her task through Olivia's silence. "Don't worry about that one, 83 of the people in the hospital that are asked that question either don't know or get it wrong." She's laughing softly. Olivia follows the light and then blinks slowly before focusing again on the doctor.

"Really, should I ask to see your license? You are a doctor aren't you?" The doctor laughs harder.

"Curious and defensive. Check and check." She turns toward Elliot. "Is she always this charming and cooperative?" He busts out laughing now.

"Out of sheer self defense I can't answer that question." He had forgotten that he was still loosely holding Olivia's hand until that moment when she suddenly squeezed. "Ouch! Well her strength is good. You can add that to your list." The doctor looks from one to the other, reading the relationship between them.

"Okay, let's get back to the basics. How's your memory of the last twenty four hours? And please be honest, I _am_ trying to help you." She looks at Olivia and Elliot knows the expression as the same one Olivia gives to the tough victims.

Olivia's glance moves to the window so she isn't looking either one of them in the eyes. "I remember pieces but I don't think they're in order and there are gaps in time. I don't know, some of it's hazy." She shakes her head just slightly in frustration and winces again. "I know I was in an accident. I remember most of that…" She pauses and then pulls her hand from Elliot's to angrily swipe at the tear that slips down her cheek. "I was at the cemetery this morning, I remember that too." Elliot is looking at her clearly confused. When did she go to the cemetery and why? She never goes to the cemetery. The doctor sees the stunned expression on his face and knows there is a lot more to this story than she's getting. Olivia's voices tenses as her irritation stirs. "I'm fine, really I'm fine." She moves to sit up and quickly lays her head back down.

"Sure you are, go ahead and get up and I'll sign you out." Dr. Andrews stands next to the bed, her eyes fixed on Olivia's. "Alright then, comparing your test results from this morning with those from an hour ago I can see the swelling is going down but it has a ways to go. Until then you're going to feel all the symptoms of a concussion, lightheaded, nauseous, spinning and a splitting headache. You need to let me know if you have problems with your vision, your speech starts to slur or stutter or your hands begin to tremor."

"When can I leave?"

Doctor Andrews's voice becomes professional and stern enough to send the message that game time is over. "Detective Benson, I know you want to go home but you have a subdural hematoma which has caused pressure on your brain. It's not an injury to be taken lightly and it's not a healing process that can be rushed. Given your condition when you came in here I'm tempted to order a psych evaluation. I won't even consider releasing you until your I.V. is finished; you keep at least one meal down and the scan shows a reduction in the swelling. Do we understand each other?" She reaches out and smoothes back Olivia's hair with her fingers and gently presses around the purple lump.

Olivia begrudgingly says yes and then sits still as the bruise on her chin is inspected. Elliot watches her expression and can see in her the young girl she once was as the doctor finishes looking at her injuries. When she asks Olivia to push against her hand as hard as she can he hears her gasp in pain.

"That's from the seatbelt injury. They did a set of x-rays and didn't see any breaks at the time. Does it hurt when you take a deep breath?" Olivia inhales, testing the area.

"It feels bruised but there isn't any sharp pain." She's getting restless and tired of the attention. The doctor picks up the chart and begins to take notes as she speaks.

"Okay, I'll schedule another scan for tomorrow morning so we can see how you're doing. That I.V. will be done in the next hour so I'll have a late dinner tray brought up for you. I'm also ordering a mild pain killer so you can rest comfortably tonight. Now that you're awake I'll have a nurse come in and remove the catheter but you'll still have to buzz for assistance to go to the restroom and that isn't optional. I don't want you passing out trying to go by yourself." Olivia makes a face and closes her eyes for a second, wanting all of this to be over. Doctor Andrews folds the chart against her chest and stares at Olivia obviously waiting for something. After a moment she shakes her head gently and smiles. "I'm waiting for you to tell me how you're going to have no problem doing as I asked so you can go home tomorrow."

Just when Elliot thinks she's going to blow her temper a deep laugh rolls from Olivia. "Doctor Andrews I will follow your orders to the letter to be able to get the hell out of here."

"Excellent, I'll see you in the morning then." She puts the chart back and disappears out of the room. Elliot knows he missed something but he recognizes it as something he has missed before at his own house. Women magically communicate until they find a way to walk away with both of them getting what they want. Men have that need to be alpha so they argue until there's a clear sign of a winner. He has never figured out how women do it, how they know when the field has been equaled so they can both be content. He never sees or hears the moment it becomes okay but he feels the shift when the power struggle is over. He's always lived in houses where the women outnumbered him and although he's never figured them out, he has learned from them.

"Elliot, go home." The sound of her is like a touch inside him after all those hours of silence. When he hears her speak it's so much better than the sound of her in his head. It's the difference between seeing a cup of coffee on television and taking the first sip of one in the morning. He would like her to keep talking even if she's telling him to leave. He just stands there smiling at her. Reaching out his hand he drags his fingers over the edge of the rough sheets wishing it was the line of her leg instead.

"I'm glad you're awake, Liv." He ignores her comment completely but before she can respond to that or his statement the nurse breezes in the room and asks Elliot to step into the hall while she removes the catheter.

He paces quietly and in the distance he hears the nurse tell Olivia to take a deep breath and blow it out slowly. He stops listening then because he doesn't really want to picture this woman between her legs. He knows it's medical but it's the idea of Olivia naked, parting her long slender thighs even for this that has him pacing faster. His fingers wrap around her badge in his pocket and it soothes him with the familiar shape, the stiff leather pressing into him and the cool metal on his fingertips. A moment later the nurse walks out and motions to him that it's all clear.

He steps back up to the bed and she turns to hold his gaze. "Go home Elliot, it's where you belong."

"You can tell me all you want to Olivia, but I'm not leaving. Tonight I'll be here until you take your pain killer and go to sleep. Tomorrow I'll be here when you wake up so I can take you home and then we're going to sit and sort some things out." He's narrowed his eyes in that intense way she knows from the interrogation room.

She's glaring at him and she takes a slow breath before answering. "I can have someone else take me home and if no one is available there's a city full of cabs out there waiting for me."

"Liv, stop it. I'm taking you home. I brought you a change of clothes and I have your house keys. You were only in a robe when you feinted. I…" She cuts him off before he can finish his argument which she knows makes him angry.

"I don't need your help. Do you think helping me will be like some act of contrition against your guilt? Go do good deeds for someone else. Go home to your wife and your children. They need you." Her voice is tight but she's tired, defeated by the circumstances of her own life.

When she flashes her eyes back to his she is surprised to see him smiling. "Say what ever you want Olivia, I'm not leaving. I'm exactly where I want to be, where I need to be. We'll talk about all this later, you can argue with me tomorrow. I promise I'll let you be as stubborn as you want to be but right now let's call a truce and just get through the next twenty four hours." She's staring at him as though he has grown a second head. In truth she doesn't have the energy to argue with him. Her head is filtering through all the information she has from the day. She had taken a cab from the cemetery but the ride and her actual entrance into her apartment are a blur. She came out of the shower and threw on her robe because Elliot had been pounding and ranting in her hallway. Elliot was there when she went down. She remembers him trying to break down her door. She wonders how much of her bruised body he had seen in those moments while he waited for the ambulance. Then he went through her bedroom to get her clothes. Her face warms with the heat of embarrassment as she pictures the scene as it must have been.

He can see her thinking it all over when a smile breaks his face. He can hear the captain at the desk in the hall asking for her room. He'd know that voice anywhere. In a few seconds he's going to be off the hook.

Cragen stays about forty minutes and the entire time Elliot hovers in the background while he visits with Olivia. He nods and acts like he's listening when Cragen looks his way. He watches Olivia try to look apologetic when he chastises her for not being seen at the hospital. She doesn't try to explain to him that everything that felt broken was never going to heal. She smiles and eases his mind by telling him she felt fine when she left. He catches her up on the mayhem at work and assures her that Munch, Fin and Lake have it under some semblance of control. He makes her smile and Elliot warms just watching her.

As their captain is leaving her dinner tray arrives and the girl also replaces Elliot's abandoned one from earlier with a fresh one. A nurse enters and makes adjustments to her now empty I.V. but doesn't remove the main needle from her arm. After the nurse is gone they sit in silence for a few moments. Elliot takes the cover off his plate and looks at it. The meatloaf doesn't look that bad and the mashed potatoes and carrots look almost appealing. He takes a bite and smiles at her. She still hasn't touched her tray.

"Come on Liv, it's actually pretty good."

She sighs heavily. "Why won't you leave Elliot? You're just making it harder by being here. Just, just go home." Her lip is quivering and she's trying not to cry. They had been discussing or fighting or something this morning. She had shut him out but it felt more like cutting him out. If she had any chance at all it had to be done and if she knew anything about herself it was that she had a strong instinct to survive.

His response is almost a whisper. "I can't, I can't go home. I'm not even sure what that means anymore. What I do know is that I need to be here with you. There are so many things I have to say, so many I should have said a long time ago. You don't have to talk if you don't want to." He pauses and laughs without humor. "I've been talking to you for hours without you answering today anyway." He stares at the floor for a moment as though looking for his words in the speckled pattern between his feet. "Do you think the heart can prioritize Liv? Do you think there's an order to who you love and how much? I always thought no, that love was…well, just love. I thought having my children taught me that." He pauses and lifts his head and in his strong profile the florescent light shines off his wet lashes. Olivia stays very still because she can't remember ever seeing him cry. "When I was a kid and I was hurt in some way, a skinned knee, a twisted ankle or whatever it was, my brother would come up and ask me what was wrong. As soon as I told him he'd punch me as hard as he could and then tell me he was taking my mind off my other injury. It took me a couple times to learn but the funny thing was that as much as I hated it, he was right. Your body prioritizes pain. When you can't breathe all you want is air until you have it. Once you have air you realize you're thirsty and all you want is water until you have it. Once you have water you realize you're hungry and all you want is food until you have it. Everything you do is really driven by some kind of priority." He slows for a minute, wondering if he's lost her, if he's making any sense at all. "What I learned up in that helicopter yesterday was that your heart prioritizes too. It does it all on its own and not just by how you feel but first and foremost by what you can't live without." He turns and looks at her now and the raw vulnerability in him causes her to gasp softly. "You were my _first_ thought Liv, without any hesitation. Like breathing, like blinking, it was automatic. I was being crushed with fear by the thought of living without you." She doesn't think he's even aware of the tears. "I don't know exactly what's going to happen or how, I just know I need to be here and we can talk about the rest of it later. I wanted you to know that everything you've had in your head since yesterday was all wrong. Don't shut me out Liv. This isn't over. I'm not leaving." As the tears round his chin he feels it and wipes his hand over his face. "For now what's important is that you get better. I don't want you to use all your strength fighting me on this. So please, just for tonight can you set everything aside and let me just sit here with you and then take you home in the morning?" He rubs his hands over his face in a motion of weariness she knows so well it makes her ache.

Olivia is speechless and her head has started to throb. There are words and opinions bouncing around in her head but she can't line them up to send them out to him. She can't do this, can't listen to what he thinks he knows. He's only caught up in the rush of fear and emotions from everything that's happened. He'll never leave his wife and even if he wanted to she'll never let him go, not now. Suddenly the room is filled with a piercing alarm.

"Olivia what's the matter?" He leaps to his feet; his panic obvious as his eyes scan her body, the machines and her face looking for a clue.

"Nothing, I don't know what's wrong." She barely finishes her words when a nurse jogs into the room. She makes some adjustments to the heart monitor and the sound stops abruptly. She moves her stethoscope to Olivia's chest and listens for a moment. Elliot watches as the pads of her fingers come to rest on the delicate flesh inside Liv's wrist.

"Are you in a lot of pain?" The question is quick, professional.

"Yes, but I can handle it." Olivia blinks slowly, realizing that the woman thinks her tears are from some injury she can see. She almost laughs out loud. If she only knew how incapable all this equipment is of measuring real pain.

"Apparently you can't, your heart rate was way too high. I'm going to give you your pain killer to make you more comfortable. It's going to make you tired but you really need your rest at this point. If having this big guy in here is sending your heart rate up, I'm going to have to ask him to leave." The woman is ignorantly grinning from ear to ear over her clever comment. He looks at Olivia as she barely shakes her head back and forth.

"No, he can stay. I'm alright." The nurse lifts the lid off her dinner and sets it aside, pushing the tray in front of Olivia.

"You have to eat or they're going to order another I.V. and I mean all of it. The doctor's orders are clear that you can't go home until you're eating and have had your test in the morning. Your body needs the fluids too, drink the milk and as much water as you can before you go to sleep." She walks briskly from the room, her shoes squeaking softly on the waxed floors as she goes.

"Mmmm meatloaf, now cold meatloaf, this should be good." It looks like an impossible amount of food to her right now. Elliot watches her look with disgust at the food but takes her attempt at conversation as a peace offering. He leans over and opens her carton of milk and puts in the straw. He opens the cellophane pack containing her silverware, napkin and salt and pepper packets and arranges it all on her tray. He lifts the white plastic lids off of two hard brown mugs and determines one to be coffee and the other to be some kind of gravy. He pours the gravy over the meat and potatoes and cuts her first bite, dipping it in the gravy and resting the fork on her plate.

"Do you want me to feed it to you too?" His expression is hesitant but playful and she rewards him with a small smile. She imagines how many times he has set up a plate like this for his children and her stomach lurches. Part of her wants to stop him but at the moment she doesn't have any fight left.

"No, I can manage lifting the fork all by myself, thanks." Her sarcasm doesn't escape him but he's too busy being grateful to have a response. She takes the first bite and chews slowly; the motion isn't helping her head. He reaches the controller and tips the bed up into more of a sitting position.

"Better?" His grin is back and despite everything it still makes her feel good to see it. She slowly eats another bite while she watches him finish preparing his own tray. She can tell from the hunch of his shoulders and how aggressively he cuts into his first bite that he's hungry. His words are still in her, stuck like shards of glass protruding from a soft surface. He has a family that needs him. She should make him go home. She should force him to do the right thing even though he can't do it for himself right now. He'll thank her later.

She hears him in her head whispering as though the world had stopped to listen. "_Your heart does prioritize, not just by how you feel but first and foremost by what you can't live without. _ _Like breathing, like blinking, it was automatic. I was being crushed with fear by the thought of living without you." _

"Liv, whatever it is that you're thinking about, stop now. Your heart rate is going up again." When she looks at him his eyes are fixed on the machine. She takes a slow deep breath and another bite of the meatloaf. This is insane. She needs to be home.

"I want to go home El. Right now, I want to go home." Her voice is soft and pleading but it feels like he's been punched in the chest.

"I know you do and believe me, I would like nothing more than to scoop you up and take you there but I can't. You need to get better, you need some rest. You're not going to believe how much better you feel in the morning. This is probably the longest you've rested in years. You already have the I.V. out and if you can get most of that meal down I can take you home in the morning." He's babbling in his attempt to comfort her and he knows it. "I'll tell you what; if you eat the meat and carrots I'll eat those nasty potatoes for you." He's turned his mouth into a smirk because the potatoes really are bad. They're too watery and have a completely bland taste.

"You have to drink my milk too. You know I don't like milk unless it's really cold and that's already room temperature. I'll never get it down." He takes the carton off her tray, pulls out the straw and empties it in a few swallows.

"Now finish your meat and I'll take care of your potatoes." He's smiling at this strange game they're playing as coconspirators. It isn't their first time in these roles although he's never had to eat her food to help her before. If these had been hot French fries she would have not only eaten her own but his wouldn't have been safe from her snatching fingers. He relaxes as the feel of them shifts back to a more familiar comfortable form. She eats the carrots and pushes through all but the last two bites of meat.

"I'm done, I can't do anymore or I'll be sick." He switches out his clean plate for hers and in a few seconds has it empty. He even drank the nasty coffee and she could barely tolerate the slightly burnt scent of it. "I have to use the bathroom, you're going to have to adjust the bed and get this rail down."

It's obvious to him that she's uncomfortable asking for help so he tries to hurry. He moves the trays to the window ledge and lowers the bed and the side rail. She pushes back the covers and dangles her lower legs over the side of the mattress. He chuckles and opens the nightstand next to her, grabbing something from the drawer. He bends forward and tears open a plastic bag, pulling short blue socks with white rubber stripes on the bottom onto each of her feet.

"There!" He says it so triumphantly she almost laughs. Her legs are surprisingly cold and goose bumps run along her arms.

"You're kidding me right?" He puts out his arm and as much as she would like to ignore it, the room swims dangerously around her as she starts to stand. She pushes her arm through his and is shocked at how solid he feels, like a tree rooted beside her. He waits for her to move and after a deep breath she takes a step, pushing her gown down with one hand. He lets her take the two steps inside by herself when she releases his arm and she's grateful he didn't insist on standing inside with her. The toilet is cold, the light is too bright and it smells like disinfectant. She hates hospitals. Her head is screaming now and she really does want to just lie down and be perfectly still for a while.

Just as he's about to knock he hears the toilet flush and the water go on as she washes her hands. The second the door opens he has his arm out waiting for her. She takes it this time without hesitating and lets him help her back to the bed. She sits on the edge and he takes her slipper socks off and lets her slide under the covers. She's smiling slightly as she lays down. He pulls the covers all the way up and files away this moment that he tucks her into the bed. He'll think about that later.

He has settled back into his seat next to her when the nurse bustles back in with a syringe in her hand. In a flash she has emptied the contents into the cap on the end of Olivia's I.V. tube. She walks over and checks the trays carefully. She writes in the chart by the door and pauses before leaving.

"That's going to hit in about ten minutes and then she'll be out for the night." Elliot realizes she's speaking more to him than to Olivia so he nods his understanding.

Olivia chuckles softly as the woman disappears down the hall. "Ten minutes? She obviously doesn't know me. I haven't fallen asleep in ten minutes in all my life." She looks at Elliot and he watches her eyes become pools of darkness.

"I don't think you're going to be falling asleep Liv, I think she just knocked you out." Even as he finishes her lids are drooping. Six minutes later Olivia is asleep.

When she doesn't stir at all as the trays are cleared he knows she isn't going to wake and he slowly stands. He kisses her softly on the forehead and heads for the door. He has another hospital to visit tonight.


	6. Chapter 6

Failure to Thrive Chapter 6

Spoilers for Paternity

They are not mine but I'm playing with them anyway.

Elliot sits quietly next to his wife's bed once again holding his son in the dimly lit room. He watches her sleep and thinks about how much fear will fill the next few weeks of her life. He wishes there was some way he could spare her that part of this process. He regrets that he will have to put his children through another confusing time but is hoping he can tell them that at least they can all be sure he gave it every effort. He has an urge to tell them that one day they'll understand but in truth he hopes they never do. The baby pushes softly against him with a tightly clutched fist as he dreams and Elliot wonders what a newborn sees when he sleeps. He decides it must be the warm dark floating cocoon that he has lived in for the last nine months. He remembers that fetus' can hear in the womb and at birth often recognize the voice of their parents. It means his son heard the accident, felt the distress of his mother's voice. It also means he heard Olivia's soothing tone, before he even saw the light of birth she had comforted him. He grazes his lips over the baby's forehead in a hovering kiss and tucks him closer against his chest.

On one hand he wonders how his life has come to this point and on the other he wonder what took it so long. He lifts the baby and takes in the scent of innocence. It calms him to hold the baby. It reiterates his belief in new beginnings and the possibility of growth.

"I'm not leaving you." He whispers against the child's skin and wills him to understand the intent if not the words. Ironically he'll see more of this child with scheduled visitations than he did of his older children during most of their childhoods. It sounds like a rationalization but still has the ring of truth, even to him. He looks up at his wife's still sleeping face and watches as her body stirs while she too dreams. If he forever remembers yesterday as the day of the accident, he'll remember today as the day he watched everyone sleep while he felt impossibly wide awake.

He knows that soon the baby will cry from hunger and Kathy will open her eyes. He tries to focus on what he's going to say to her but can't string any words together that feel right to him. He closes his eyes and thinks of Olivia, the fear of losing her still so fresh in his mind it crawls over his skin and gathers into a weight in his chest. When he opens his eyes the baby is staring at him.

"Hey buddy, I knew you'd be up soon. Did you sleep well?" The baby blinks slowly and then yawns as he brings his fist up to his face. He sucks on the side of his hand for a moment before scrunching up his face to cry. The build up seems to take a long time but the squeaky cry finally peels from him and pierces the silence of the room. Elliot moves the child to his shoulder and walks around in the small space. Kathy moves but isn't yet fully awake. He knows the change in position is only buying him time but he'll take it. Elliot is humming softly and watching his shadow repeatedly cross the light from beneath the door when the baby begins to cry again. He moves toward the bed because the insistent tone tells him that this time comfort is not going to rule over hunger. Kathy's eyes are already open and she's reaching for the baby. After she has him settled on her breast she turns her attention to Elliot.

"It's late. Is Olivia going to be alright?" The question is difficult for both of them and the space between them bends with the weight of the awkwardness.

"It looks like it, she's awake and doing better." He doesn't take his eyes off of her but she's watching the baby eat. The tension between them sharpens until the air feels brittle. He thinks if he moves everything will shatter and shred them both so he stays perfectly still. The only sound in the room is the soft sucking and breathing of the baby. It still amazes him to see a child breastfeed, to know her body not only grew this child but makes the milk to feed it as well. The sight stirs his idea of a miracle and strokes his faith. When she shifts the child to burp him he inhales sharply. "We have to talk Kathy, about all of this. I know the timing sucks but there's never going to be a good time." She pats the baby's back but still doesn't look up so he keeps going. "Would you have come to the precinct that day and asked me to come home if you hadn't been pregnant?"

Her head jerks up and he can see the look of genuine surprise but he has to continue. Maybe she thought he'd never have the nerve to ask. He slips his hand into his pocket and strokes his thumb over Olivia's badge. "I've spent a lot of time thinking about that conversation in the last few days. You must have taken the pregnancy test that morning. You drove all the way into the city and said you had to see me. You asked me to come back for you, not for any other reason. That isn't what hits me wrong though. It's the fact you didn't let me answer at that point, you didn't let me respond to the appeal to just be with you. Before I could finish thinking about the situation you told me you were pregnant and you knew what that meant for me. There was no decision to be made, just like the first time. Didn't you want to know if I would have chosen you without the baby?" Her eyes are bright with tears and he can't help but think there may be a little relief in her expression although it's probably just wishful thinking on his part. The baby has burped and she moves him to her other breast before looking back up.

"I didn't think you'd come back for me. I was never a hundred percent sure you would have chosen me the first time." Her tears flow freely and he worries that although she's crying quietly the tension might be upsetting to the baby. "Would you have come home Elliot? Just for me?"

"At that point Kathy, I don't know. The divorce had finally started to feel like the right decision to me. The kids seemed to be surviving it and actually we all appeared happier than we had been in a long time. I knew I was still the same man with the same job that you wanted to break from so I would have had some questions about that. Still, we were together for almost 20 years so I would have considered giving it another shot. But that would have just been the two of us so it would have been different. I guess I don't know what would have happened but I can tell you that now, I don't think we would have made it with or without the baby." He watches the information sink in and knows this time he'll wait as long as it takes for her to respond.

"Why not, El? Why do you think we wouldn't have made it?" The baby has fallen asleep and despite where they are at the moment he takes him from her and lays him back in his bed. He feels better with the newborn not placed between them during this conversation. He counts the slight rise and fall of the infants blanket while Kathy adjusts her nightgown and settles back against the bed.

"Two days ago if I had predicted the end of our marriage I would have said that we had let it run its course. I would have said my job was still too much and that neither one of us was really happy. I would have said there were too many things about which we couldn't be completely honest." He's looking out the window now, into the darkness that has finally brought an end to this day. He knows he owes it to her to be totally honest, even if it's for the first time. It was just hours ago that he promised god he would live a life of honesty if Olivia would just open her eyes. "Today I would tell you that it was only a matter of time before I realized how much I love Olivia. I walked out on her to walk back to you. The accident was a catalyst but it's been there for a long time." When he looks at her he realizes there isn't any shock or anger and then it occurs to him. "You've known for some time haven't you? You knew even before you asked me to come back." She's wrapping the edge of the sheet over and between her fingers watching it tighten over her knuckles as she cups her hand.

All these years she thought the topic of Olivia would destroy her. She has waited for and dreaded this day for so long that its actuality less painful than the anticipation of it has been. Maybe she has lived in fear of it for so long she's just numb to the idea. She feels part of the blame for the situation. When she pushed him out the door three years ago she knew where he would turn. She eased her own conscience by telling herself he wouldn't be alone. He had friends. He had Olivia. When he had agreed to come home she knew it didn't feel right, something about them felt forced. It was ironic really that she had worried through their marriage that Olivia would try to take him and in the end she handed him to her. What shocks her now is that none of this makes it hurt any less.

"What do you want me to say? That I never noticed the change in your voice when it was her on the phone? That the few times you brought her up it was impossible for you to quit smiling while you spoke? That the kids didn't tell me you were spending more time with her? Yes, I knew but I didn't set you up. I couldn't have been more surprised when that stick turned blue. I just figured we had a good twenty years the first time around and even though it wasn't perfect we could at least have that again. It's not like I don't love you." Her voice hitches and his head drops. "What about the baby Elliot?"

His eyes catch on the security band on her wrist, the one that assures that no one but her will take home their child. His stomach slowly turns over as the thought passes through him. "This isn't about him. You know I wouldn't just walk away from him." There is a flash of anger in his eyes but it fades as quickly as it sparked. "Don't you want to be happy? Don't you think you deserve a chance to really be happy? When you asked me for a divorce it seemed like you knew something was missing and you were ready to go out and find that for yourself. What happened?"

"The world was bigger than I thought Elliot." She pauses and he feels her withdraw from him.

"Kathy no one has hurt you, have they?" He tenses and watches her face closely. She sighs heavily.

"No Elliot, no one has hurt me. It was just harder to be single than I thought and then when I found out I was pregnant, I was scared. I thought about not telling you and doing it on my own but I knew I couldn't and I knew you'd want to know." For a second something flickers across her face and he thinks its guilt. He wonders if it's because she wasn't going to tell him about the baby or because it isn't his.

"I wouldn't leave you to do this on your own. You know I would never walk away from my child. Even if he wasn't mine Kathy it's not like I'd just walk out of your life and not help you. You have to know me better than that by now. It isn't that I don't love you or care about what happens to you but neither one of us is happy." She tilts back her head and closes her eyes in a motion Elliot recognizes as an attempt to calm herself. She's no longer twisting the sheet. "I want you to know, it's not like I've been seeing her. I wouldn't do that to you."

"But you're okay doing this to me?" Her voice rises just slightly and for a second she looks angry.

"Kathy…"

"Elliot stop, I'm sorry. This is just hard. What about the kids? What are we going to tell them?" Her voice is weary and her body settles into the bed as though she has just let go of something too heavy.

"We tell them the truth. At least they'll know we tried to make this work and because of the last time I think they'll be more secure about still seeing me even if I'm not in the house. I want our daughters to find husbands that make them feel safe and happy. I'm not sure we've been very good role models in that department. You're the one that's always telling me that they know a lot more than we think they do. They probably won't be surprised by this news." She's nodding her head in agreement as he speaks. "We'll wait until you get home from the hospital so we can talk to them together."

"It's still going to be a few more days because of my legs and my mother has already asked to come for a while when I get home. The kids are all old enough to help now too. It's not like when we brought the twins home, this time the grown ups outnumber the children." There's a small sad smile as she finishes the last thought.

He steps next to the bed and takes her hand. "I'm sorry Kathy." Fresh tears slide down her cheeks and she squeezes his hand.

"Me too El, me too." She thinks about asking him if he's moving out but she already knows the answer. She doesn't even know if he ever got rid of his other apartment or just sublet it out. She should have asked more questions. She should have asked more questions when it mattered.

"I'm going to go home and check on the kids but I'll talk to you tomorrow and Kath, still call me if you need anything." She nods her head and gives him a weak smile which he returns before he goes.

By the time Elliot slips back into the hospital, it's just after two in the morning. Some clothes and personal belongings are in the trunk of his car and there's a toothbrush in his pocket. He made lunches for the twins and left notes and money for each of them. They'll think he came home on a break from work. He packed clothes for a few days and took his work kit so his razor and toothbrush wouldn't be missing from the bathroom. He doesn't want them to know just yet. He considered going to the crib and getting a few hours of sleep before returning to the hospital. Instead he finds himself driving straight to her. He'd rather get a kink in his neck from sleeping in a chair next to her than in a bed without her. He knows at this point it'll be a small miracle if he ever gets to lie beside her. He grins broadly because he likes the whole idea of being next to her and he knows he's also returning to the hospital to keep her from bolting on him. History dictates that she's a runner.

Two nurses glare at him but no one tries to stop him so he makes it quietly back to her room. He sets the chair carefully back next to the bed. The blinds have been drawn so it takes his eyes a moment to fully adjust to the dimness of the room. They must have been serious about wanting her to sleep. He remembers his hospital stay being far noisier, the steps and clanging of equipment seem distant to him. Maybe the walls here are better insulated than the old building where he stayed or maybe the room at the end of the hall is always quieter. He watches her sleep and smiles at how deeply she seems to be resting. Her face is completely relaxed in a way that tells him no part of her is close enough to the surface of consciousness to hear a phone ring. It isn't the tense sleep she catches in the crib in the middle of a case with her mind still churning and her body at rest. This is Olivia wandering around dreamland without an exit in sight. He strokes her cheek and hopes her demons can't find her in this state of contentment. He eases the rail down and props his head with one hand while taking hers with the other.

He would like to crawl into the narrow bed with her and pull the stark sheets up over them. He'd like to splay his hand across the soft flesh of her abdomen and pull her up against the front of him until the heat of her sleep envelopes him. He'd like to fall asleep with her ass pressed against his dick, his hand cupping her breast while the nipple nudges his palm and the scent of her in every breath. He thinks he could fully rest then. A sly smile stretches across his face. Okay he wouldn't be able to rest at that point because he'd have a raging hard on and his only goal would be to bury himself inside her. His dick twitches and he closes his eyes so he can push his thoughts in another direction.

Olivia feels like her eyelids are sticking closed. They pull apart slowly as she forces them open and stays perfectly still while she looks around to get oriented. Her hand is caught and the weight against her side is Elliot. Her face softens as she looks at him. His head rests on his arm on the side of the bed where exhaustion finally over took him. He looks like he does when he falls asleep at his desk ready at any second to lift his head and reengage. His fingers are tangled in hers and she remembers him holding her hand earlier. She wonders again when this became something that they do. She's surprised that she didn't hear him come in or feel him take her hand. She slowly blinks through the fog in her head but her consciousness feels too weighted. She gently eases her hand from his grasp. She blinks again, closing her eyes a little longer this time and fighting to open them. She reaches out her hand and carefully smoothes the collar of his shirt. The warmth of him soothes her and she lets her fingers rest against his neck. She gives in and closes her eyes as his pulse flutters under her touch.

Elliot wakes but doesn't open his eyes. He feels her hand on his neck and doesn't want to move from beneath her touch. He measures her breathing and decides she's still asleep. His neck is aching from the awkward sleeping position and he's going to have to slip into the restroom before too long but for now he stays still. He begins to review the list of places he needs to stop before he takes her home. He wishes now that he had gone by her apartment last night and cleaned up the mess that was left. Her fingers flutter across his skin and he marvels at how such a feint touch stirs him to arousal. He slowly moves out from under her hand and sits up. He doesn't want her to wake up and be greeted by his hard on, well at least not yet. He grins and slips into the bathroom to freshen up, suddenly wishing he had brought his kit up so he could shave. When he comes out Olivia is awake.

"Well good morning, how's the head?" He gives her his best smile hoping that this day will go better than the last few.

"You know better than to try to talk to me before I've even had my first cup of coffee." She tries to look grumpy but he can see the underlying amusement in her eyes. She sits up, testing her stability and is encouraged when the room doesn't spin. There's a small crease on the side of her neck from her pillow and her eyes still have the heavy look of a hard sleep. She swings her legs over the side of the bed and arches her back and turns her head in a move he knows is meant to pop her neck. He gets her slipper socks and she glares at him before snatching them from his hand. "I can do that myself now. The headache is almost gone and the room isn't spinning anymore." She sounds harsher than she intended so when he puts out his hand to help her up she takes it in lieu of an apology. She grabs the back of the ill fitting gown with the other hand and scoots into the restroom.

By the time she comes back out the breakfast trays have arrived. She raises the back of the bed until she's sitting straight up and stretches her neck again. It occurs to Elliot that it's probably sore from the accident and all of yesterday's events but he doesn't comment. She looks so much better now, so well rested that her eyes look clearer than they have in a long time. Now that she's lost that sleepy look and is waking up a bit more he knows it won't be long before she wants to leave. She lifts the paper lid off her coffee and takes a sip. The face she makes causes him to chuckle. "Oh my god, who would have thought there was a coffee out there worse than Munch's?" He's laughing now and wondering if they just think alike or if she heard him yesterday when he offered her unconscious form the same observation.

He tells her he'll be right back and gets her two cups of real coffee and some ketchup for her eggs.

"The coffee is the real thing but I snuck in to the nurse's lounge to get it so that's probably the only cup we'll get until we get out of here." She holds it in both hands, closes her eyes and breathes deeply over the steaming cup. It's a move she usually does only on mornings that are really bad or really good. He wonders what kind of morning this is for her.

She's distant from him on an internal level that he can feel. She remains light and conversational but she's withdrawn, watching him warily when she thinks he's unaware. He's isn't sure what to make of her state of mind. He thinks that although she's letting him physically take her home she's running from him in every other way. He should have anticipated this from her. It's what she does. It's who she is, fight on then job and flight in her personal life. He knows the hospital isn't the place for them to have a big discussion so he sets it on the back burner. They take her for her test and he walks down with her, once again waiting in the hall as they scan her head.

S o far he's been flying on instinct and honesty but he's unsure what he should do next. He's been so busy marching forward that he really hasn't thought through exactly how he's going to handle her once he gets her home. By the time she's seen the doctor and is in the bathroom getting dressed to leave he's ruminating on the whole situation. She comes out and begins packing the rest of her things into her bag and he watches her as she reaches across the bed to get her release papers off the table. He likes her ass on the jeans she's wearing. He knew them when he grabbed them and was so relieved that it didn't occur to him why he knew them. These are one of her best pair. He recognizes them because his eyes are always drawn to the stitching on the back pockets that sit on her perfect ass. These are the ones that have molded to her body with years of wear. The waist band of them is frayed white and lies perfectly against her tan flesh below the dimples low on her back. The ones he isn't supposed to know exist. Sometimes a stray thread breaks and dances against her skin and he thinks of reaching over tugging on it. He also thinks of dragging his finger across the skin tucked in her waist band. He imagines how smooth she is there.

"Hey, do you think you could give me a hand with this?" She's holding one vase of flowers and nodding toward the other. As he secures it in his arms the attendant shows up with her wheel chair and she looks in disgust at the chair.

"It's hospital policy mam, a free ride to the front door." The boy flashes a wide grin at her and she sits in the chair trying to decide if she's more annoyed about the ride or that he just called her mam. He looks about twelve years old so she decides not to tear into him; after all, everyone over twenty is a mam to him. The valet has brought up Elliot's car and he automatically pops the trunk to throw her bag in but remembers too late that it's already full. He tosses her bag in the back seat and secures the flowers on the floor.

Olivia is quiet because the bags in the trunk caught her completely off guard. She saw the flash of panic on his face as he slammed the trunk closed and busied himself with her things. He shifts his weight in his seat and holds the steering wheel too tightly in his hands. She wonders why he's nervous.

They manage to carry everything up to her apartment in one trip and she quietly looks around the room. He shrugs off his coat and gets her garbage can from the kitchen and begins cleaning up the glass from the broken lamp in the living room.

"I can get that." She looks uncomfortable and he takes his eyes back to the shiny fragments on the floor mixed with white tabs and bits of plastic left over from the EMT.

"It's okay, I've got it. Do you want to salvage the shade?" He holds it up and she almost laughs at him.

"No, throw the whole thing out. It was time for a new one anyway." He puts all the large pieces in the trash and retrieves her vacuum cleaner from the closet. He's going over the area for the fifth time, lost in trying to get every bit of glass from the rug when the door buzzer sounds. When he switches off the machine the ghost of the vibrating motor swells in the room and presses against his eardrums. Olivia is already at the door.

"That should be the delivery guy. I ordered some groceries." He takes out his wallet and she is just standing there staring at him.

"Are you kidding me?" She pushes his hands back toward his body and goes into a drawer in the kitchen where she pulls out an envelope. She opens the door and he sees her eyes grow wide as the bags come in with two teen age boys. Six large bags. He called while she was in having her test done and he had been hungry. She pays and tips the boys so they can be on their way before turning to him. She has never purchased this much food at one time. "Elliot what the hell did you buy?"

"Well, I called the place you always shop and asked them to fill a couple bags with your usual order. When the guy read me the list half of it didn't even sound like real food so I added some things to use in actual meals. Then I added some things that just sounded good at the time." He glances at the bags as she peaks into one. "I guess what they say is true. You should never grocery shop when you're hungry." His smile is so wide she can't maintain her annoyance so instead she starts to empty the bags. He stands at the refrigerator putting in the items as she hands them to him. He watches as she tucks other items into the cupboards, noting where they are in case he needs them. When she turns away from him and reaches to the top shelf to put away the cereal his eyes fall to the exposed strip of her lower back. He's surprised by how hard it is to suppress the powerful urge to touch her. His dick stirs in his jeans and before he can collect himself she has turned around and is facing him. He quickly looks up to her face but he's already been caught.

Olivia raises her eyebrow in question. His expression is filled with guilt but his eyes are filled with something else. She feels the tingling across her abdomen and her muscles clench as the heat in her begins to gather. She steps quickly away from him. This isn't what she needs. As reckless as she can be even she knows that this would be the kiss of death for her. She can barely think about him at all without the ache of reality blooming in her chest. He doesn't belong to her and the only thing that she can think of that would be worse than never having him is having him and watching him leave. She walks quickly from the room and settles herself into the corner of the sofa where she can turn and look out the window. When he comes and sits on the sofa she draws her knees up to her body to still all the swirling emotions. She blinks and feels a tear roll down her cheek. She doesn't want to be here. She doesn't want to be this woman. His hand touches her face and she closes her eyes to listen to the voice screaming in her head that he has to stop touching her. His warm rough fingertip moves over her cheek to wipe away the tear but even with her eyes closed she feels another one run over her cheek to replace it.

"Liv, open your eyes." His voice is so soft it's almost painful to hear.

"I can't do this Elliot." He's stroking the side of her face and her body betrays her by leaning ever so slightly toward the heat of his palm.

"You can't do what?" She opens her eyes so she can determine if he's joking or not. Blue, blue, blue. She should've kept her eyes closed.

"This. I can't do this, be this woman, live this life or think these thoughts. _I can't_. You have to go home. You have a wife, children. For god's sake you have a newborn. You're just having some kind of post traumatic stress. You're going to wake up one day and regret all these decisions you made on impulse because of the accident. I can't go through this with you. I won't survive it." His hand slides from her face and he looks both surprised and hurt, like she just sucker punched him. She can feel the tears falling freely now, dripping off her chin. She has to finish this so she can pick up what's left of her life.

"Liv, this isn't about the day of the accident. It's about a thousand other days. Nothing happens overnight. My marriage didn't end yesterday. It didn't end three years ago when Kathy asked me to leave. It died a little bit every day over a long time until there was just nothing left of it. Kathy knows, this wasn't a surprise to her." Olivia's eyes grow wide as he speaks and he can see her brain churning through the information. "I didn't fall in love with you on the helicopter; I've been falling since the day we met. So this isn't PTSD or some impulsive whim created by the accident. _This is real._" His voice is a little tense with frustration as he tries to explain. Words are not exactly his strong suit.

"Elliot you have a family." Her breath hitches slightly as she says it.

"I do but leaving my wife doesn't mean I'm leaving my kids. I can still be their father. I can have them and still have you." She looks away from him; the intensity in his eyes is too bright and too sharply focused on her.

"No." It's quiet but he can hear her resolve crumbling even in this one word.

"Liv, Olivia look at me." He waits for her to bring her eyes back to his. "I would never regret being with you. The only thing I'll ever regret is walking away and not telling you how I feel. Priorities, remember? I'm not here to hurt you. I love you. Don't you get that?"

"No, I can't…" She doesn't want to believe him. It would be more than she deserves.

"You can Liv, just let yourself. You know it's true. In that heart you have so well protected you know it's true." She doesn't really see him. She's swimming in the deep blue of his eyes. She can feel his honesty in the tone of his voice. She can feel his quiet desperation for her to believe what he's telling her. "All these years you've trusted me to have your back, to instinctually know what move we were going to make next. Why is this any different?" She pulls slightly back from him. She does trust him and they have moved together on instinct in almost every situation and so far they've managed to keep each other from getting killed.

If she let's herself believe that what he's telling her is true, what does that mean to her life? She can't imagine them together and she knows how impossible it is when they're apart. Her thoughts are caught in a whirlwind in her head and her heart is pounding frantically in her chest.

"I'm going to kiss you Olivia. Don't punch me." He has a slight smile as his lips move lightly over hers. He just grazes across her mouth, hovering, nudging before his lips press against hers. He tests her gently, kissing her a little harder and running his tongue over her full lower lip. She tilts her head and hesitantly kisses him back. The taste of him calms the confusion in her mind and her thoughts swirl and settle like leaves in a dying wind. She wants more. She reaches up and cradles the base of his head in her hand and presses her fingertips against him. She parts her lips and touches her tongue to his trying to get more of his taste. Her fingers smooth over the hair at his neck and flatten against the warmth of his skin urging him closer. She sweeps over the roof of his mouth and stokes his tongue in a slow pulsing rhythm that hardens his dick and makes his balls ache.

She parts from his mouth in slow motion and he watches her eyes go from the heated depths of desire to a spark of panic. "El, do you have any idea what you're asking of me?" Her voice is low, beaten from being dragged through this rough terrain.

"I do. I'm asking you to let me love you, to give yourself a chance." He leans toward her so his chest is pressed against her knees and his lips graze her ear. "I'm asking you to see that you should be loved and I'm hoping that I can do the job as well as you deserve." A rasping sob rushes from her and her hand clutches his arm.

"Elliot it's not that easy. You're going to get bored and one day you'll wake up and want your real life back. I'm not the kind of woman you wine and dine. I'm the kind of woman you take home from the bar for a one nighter. This is going to destroy us." She squeezes her eyes shut and tips back her head trying to hold on as the feelings rage within her. She gasps for a breath and looks at him again. "In that ambulance I saw your child draw his first breath and your wife draw what I thought was her last." She pushes off him and stands now, pacing while she speaks and picking up momentum. "All I could think was that I was going to have to tell you that I got her killed. I never even saw the car. You took a vow, one of those _until death do us part_ kind of vows. She had to live. I held your son while they worked to revive her and I actually prayed. I prayed for her because I knew that's what you would do. The baby was squirming and slippery from birth and I held him against me. It felt like I was holding your whole life in my hands. Your wife. Your child. I heard you tell her you loved her. That was just two days ago. I've heard you say it to her a hundred times over the years. You don't just walk away from that, the guilt will cripple you." Her hands are moving, emphasizing, dancing through the air. Her flashing eyes and the timber of her voice convey the pure panic of the moment with spectacular clarity. He finds himself gripped with fear for her.

She leans forward, wrapping her arms tightly around herself and he's on his feet next to her instantly. "Liv, what's wrong?" He forgot about her head and the guilt wells within him. All this can't be good for her.

"Everything's wrong Elliot. Haven't you been listening?" He carefully puts his arm around her, half expecting her to flinch when he touches her. He walks her back to sit on the couch and waits while she calms down. He pulls some tissues from the box on the table and hands them to her. He wants to rub her back but knows it would be more for his own comfort than hers. Her breathing slows and she sits tugging on a frayed thread in the seam of her jeans.

"Liv, I'm so sorry. I wish I had taken her to the appointment myself. It wasn't your fault. The guy was drunk and blew through the red light without even attempting to brake. Even if you'd seen him you never would have been able to stop." He sighs heavily. "I told Kathy that I loved her because I do, I have for a long time but we're like people living parallel lives. We aren't in love and haven't been for a long time. We have the kids and a common history but we don't have a life together. We live separate lives under the same roof and that's only because of the pregnancy. Moving home was doing the wrong thing for the right reasons." He reaches over and takes her hand and is surprised when she lets him. "You shouldn't be worried about my guilt over my marriage ending. I saw a priest when I was served with the divorce papers last year. I worked through what I needed to with him. I still needed to be a good father to my kids and I couldn't when I was that angry." She turns and looks at him then because it explains the calmer version of him that was here when she came back from Oregon. She had given the credit to Dani when he had found answers in his religion. She should have figured that out.

"I can't stop how I feel. I can't make myself be in love with Kathy any more than I can make myself stop being in love with you. In the nine years that we've been partners I have felt a lot of things but I have never been bored. You're definitely not boring." He smiles just a little and then pushes the table in front of him out of the way and kneels on the floor in front of her so he knows she's with him. "You're not a one night stand Liv and anyone who treated you like you were made a huge mistake. I don't expect you to be anyone other than who you are and I don't know what will convince you other than time." He leans forward and places a kiss on her forehead. "I have time and I'll wait as long as it takes. Waiting seems to be the name of the game for me these days. Come on, it's well past lunch time and we have all that food out there. Let's take a break from all this and get something to eat. I promised that doctor I'd make sure you ate and frankly I'm a little afraid of her."

The smallest smile tugs at her lips and it's enough for him. He winces as his knees pop when he stands. He pulls her gently to her feet and wraps her in a hug. He holds her for a while, just standing there thinking of all the times he should have held her before now and promising himself he'll never let her go.

Tbc…


	7. Chapter 7

Failure To Thrive Chapter 7

Spoilers for Paternity

A/N: Well here's the next chapter and I have chapters for my other in process work that will post this week also. Yeah for me! Thanks so much for reading and as always your comments are greatly appreciated.

She pulls away from him and he smiles at her in a way that makes her uneasy.

"Let me make us some lunch, after all I ordered all those groceries so I could fix something." She nods at him and sits down, surprising him with her acquiescence. In truth she needs some physical space from him. The kiss caught her off guard and now she feels like she's letting her defenses slip. All this touching has to stop. The feel of him is already branded so deeply into her skin that his touch will haunt her for the rest of her life. It's too much to torture herself this way. She trembles slightly as the idea of sending him home floats back to the surface. The longer he stays the harder it's going to be. She looks up and watches him fussing and humming in her kitchen. His hands are busy chopping lettuce and the muscles in his forearms dance with the movement. The sight stirs so many ambiguous feelings in her she has to close her eyes to fight the rising nausea. He was afraid he was going to lose her. He can't really want her in the way he thinks he does. She isn't that kind of woman. She dates, she has sex and she has even had a genuine laugh with a few men but she doesn't become intimate. She doesn't share. She doesn't trust. She doesn't have pieces of herself that she can give away. It has taken everything she has just to survive the life she's been dealt without losing her mind. Anything left over has always been given to victims, people who have really needed something from her. She's stolen a moment of pleasure here and there but she's always given some in exchange. Her life has always been very self supported and self contained. It's clean, neat, controlled and in some ways sterile. 

She's never had a successful relationship because she doesn't know how to open herself up to someone. She's never even come across anyone that she trusted enough to consider a possibility until now. Now there's Elliot. She's told him things she would never dream of telling anyone else. All those hours with him on stake outs when fatigue had made her weak and the blanket of darkness gave her a place to hide. In the heat of their conversations she had given truths to him, small bits of herself that flashed for an instant like fireflies on a steaming July night. Elliot caught every one and kept them like a boy with a jar that knows he's seeing something amazing. She should have talked less and studied more of the buildings instead of how his hand rested on his thigh. She should have concentrated more on the job instead of how the sound of his voice was so deep when he was tired she could feel the vibration of it against her. She should have realized that even wearing her vest and gun she had left herself unprotected and within his reach. 

She wants to say she's never asked anything from him but she knows that it isn't true. She's asked him to be honest, to have her back and to back her play whether he thinks she's right or not. She's asked him to talk to her when he's frustrated, to calm down when his anger is spiraling out of control and to trust her instincts when she has the lead. He's done all of it and more even when she stopped asking. Even when she ran from him because she realized there were things she was starting to depend on, to need. Even when they clearly chose each other over the job he had not backed away. He had just looked at her and said they couldn't let it happen again. His loyalty is both humbling and intimidating to her. He has that loyalty to his wife and family. How can she be part of the reason that he breaks it? How can he not grow to hate her if that's true? She wonders just how many things were actually shattered in that one accident.

He's mindlessly tossing a tomato in the air as he reads a recipe he has on the counter. His fingers slide down the page as he scans ahead and his brow creases in concentration. She closes her eyes and rests her head back on the pillow to block out the sight of him. He can see that she's struggling in every expression on her face. He wants to go and lift her on to his lap and against him so he can sooth her but he knows he has to stay away. It'll never work between them if he doesn't let her find her way to him. He knows how she is when it comes to any kind of relationship. He smiles as he works because despite everything he kissed her today and more importantly, she kissed him back. He can still feel the phantom warmth of her fingers on his neck and her lips against his own. Despite all her reservations, her body had told him what he most needed to know. She wants this with him. She may be doubtful about the long term possibilities and she may be terrified by the intensity of the feelings but she wants him. He's grateful the counter is hiding the proof of just how much he wants her. He isn't so naïve that he thinks it's enough that she wants to be with him. With her that's only half the battle. He not only has to win her over but he has to do something about all those demons that come with her. 

He looks over at her and since her eyes are closed he lets his gaze linger on the long exposed column of her neck. His desire to suck that warm expanse of flesh between his lips has been with him since the first time she cut her hair short. He had tried not to notice the figure she kept beneath the loose clothing she wore back then. It was another item on that list of things married men are not supposed to know. He had trained himself not to let his eyes wander down to her breasts. He couldn't always look at her face because sometimes he would find himself staring. He had never met anyone like her, so determined to do her job well, so bold in the world and so fucking beautiful. In the end he had settled on her neck. It gave him the illusion of being harmless enough even if that didn't last long. The tan skin that runs up her nape and disappears under her short curls was the first focus of his obsession. When she walked in front of him or passed through a door as he held it his eyes and thoughts followed that trail. He hopes that one day his mouth will follow it too.

She goes to wash up for lunch and pauses as she sees herself in the mirror. Now that the bruises have had time to develop, she looks like she lost a fight. She lifts her shirt and takes the time to examine her own body and assess the damage. She doesn't remember slamming into the window or the actual impact of the car. She only remembers those few seconds before when she was talking to Kathy and then the tremendous noise. The next thing she knew she was waking up in that eerie cocoon of stillness. Her fingers lightly touch the bruise that crosses her body between her breasts and disappears into her jeans. She thinks about how she felt when she heard his voice on the phone and saw the blood between his wife's legs. Every second that ticked by tightened her world a notch until she could barely breathe. She washes her hands and trims the drying skin from around the cuts on her palms to keep them from splitting. She gently rubs some antibiotic ointment into them and heads back out to the kitchen. 

Her intention is to tell him that after lunch he should go because she's fine and can take care of herself at this point. When she walks into the kitchen he has set the table with dishes and she stops by the chair to stare at them. She rarely uses these plates because she's usually here by herself. They're white with a black geometric border from the bold patterns of the sixties. They belonged to her mother and she kept them because she liked the now retro pattern and they held mostly good memories for her. Seeing them on her table is a bit of a shock and it evokes a wave of different feelings that always come when she thinks of her mother. She's aching with the sense of loss that is the legacy her mother left behind. She doesn't want her life to be a reflection of her mother's. She doesn't want to be eaten away by all the things she can't change or will never have. She holds the edge of the table and lets her past wash through her. The roaring in her ears is deafening and she wonders for a second if the head injury is causing something to go wrong. Her eyes are wide and she has that same feeling that she did those first few moments after the accident. It's as though she's caught in a vacuum and the echo of all the noise in her head is so loud she can't hear anything beyond it. She sits heavily in the chair and watches Elliot's back in the kitchen. She wants to call out to him but as her lips move to say something, it stops. 

His earlier words seep into her head and her finger tips turn white as she grips the table harder. _"You were my __first__ thought Liv, without any hesitation. Like breathing, like blinking, it was automatic. I was being crushed with fear by the thought of living without you." _ There's nothing that she would not give for it to be true.

"LIV!" She jumps when his hand touches her arm. He's looking at her strangely. "Are you alright? I've been calling you and you were so pale and holding on so tightly I thought you were going to pass out." Pass out. That's how she feels, as though she passed out and is just now waking up again.

"I'm fine Elliot, I was just thinking." He looks at her skeptically not hiding his disbelief in her partial explanation. "Really, I had a ringing in my ears for just a few seconds but the doctor said that could happen. Mostly I was just distracted thinking of my mother. These dishes always remind me of her." His shoulders settle in response to the softness in her voice.

"Are you sure that's all? No nausea, no spinning or vertigo? I'm supposed to call the doctor if any of that happens." 

She smiles a little and relaxes herself. "I think the next time I need something from you I'm going to call my doctor. You certainly seem determined to do what she says." She lifts her brow and looks up at him. In the flash of that expression she is simply the Liv he has always known and he feels like something painfully disjointed has just been popped back into place. A wide grin spreads across his face in relief.

"Well, I'm just impressed that you would call a doctor. I was starting to think you had some kind of phobia."

"Funny, don't quit your day job for a dream career as a shrink or comedian. Maybe that's why you and the doc got along so well, you both have that deep sense of humor." She's actually chuckling as she speaks. To him it seems as much of a miracle as the moment she opened her eyes.

"Right now all I have is an appetite. Lunch is ready at last." He turns from her then, taking the plates from the table and filling them in the kitchen. 

When he comes back and sits down with the food she looks at him for a long moment. She wants to be someone new but doesn't know how so she rests on what she knows. "You know you're going to have to go after this. I appreciate all your help but I'm fine and I can take care of myself. I'm sure there are things you have to do."

He's sitting with his fork half way to his mouth. He doesn't follow through with the bite, opts instead to set it on his plate. "I'm doing exactly what I need to do. Haven't you listened to a word I've said in the last two days?"

Her sarcasm rises before her anger. "Well, I did miss the whole part while I was unconscious but I think I caught the rest of it."

"I don't like being dismissed Olivia. How can you act like it doesn't matter that I told you that I love you?" His hand has moved to his lap and she knows he's flexing it out of frustration.

"It matters Elliot, it just doesn't change anything. Did you think you'd come in here and tell me that and I would just fall into bed with you and walk into some happy little fantasy life? What did you expect? You're still a married man with five children. A Catholic. My partner. None of that has changed. I'm not even convinced that you have. You were scared, I get that but you don't alter your whole life because of it." She's speaking softly, calmly but from a place in her head that feels removed from everything. His mouth is literally hanging open in shock and he's just staring at her.

"I won't be married long, I'm refiling the papers tomorrow and as for my children, I'll always be a father. Nothing will ever change that and nothing will stop me from being part of their lives." He pauses and takes a slow deep breath before looking up and capturing her eyes. "Everything has changed. It's been changing all along, that's why we were fighting, that's why you left. If you want to think this is just some phase, the only person you're fooling is your self." The food sits in front of them untouched as they stare at each other, neither one wanting to be the first to break away.

"You never answered my question. What did you expect to happen when you came here?" Her voice is a whisper.

"I expected you to meet me half way, like you always have in everything we've done. I thought that you'd admit how you felt once I did and that at least we could start from there. I don't have any illusions that it'll be easy but I also won't pretend I don't think it'll be more than worth it."

"Elliot, it'll be impossible. The first time I come through the door after a bad day on the job and you come in brooding about something, I'm not going to want to talk. I'm going to want to kick your ass for being moody and in my space." To her utter surprise he bursts out laughing and lifts his fork.

"Liv, you spend half your time now wanting to kick my ass, at least this way there'll be make up sex." Grinning he drops his head and begins to eat and it's her turn to look shocked. He just used the word sex in reference to the two of them and her thoughts scatter in fear of how casually he wandered onto sacred ground.

"Tell me you're fucking joking." His chuckle almost causes him to choke.

"Good pun but no, I'm not joking. I notice you didn't say it was impossible because you don't love me or our jobs will be a problem. You came back with how badly you're going to want to kick my ass on a bad day. If that's at the top of your list of concerns we're going to be fine. What you say is important but over the years I have learned that what you don't say is always even more valuable." She actually thinks about stabbing him with her fork. 

"Fuck you Elliot. Just because you decided to change your life doesn't mean I'm changing mine." Her hand comes up and he grabs her wrist, thinking for a split second she's going to strike him. When he feels her grip relax in his he sets both of their hands on the table. His humor has slipped from him and he's intense and serious now.

"Liv, look me in the eyes and tell me that when I got divorced and we started to go out that you would not have let it develop into a relationship. Tell me you have never thought about this. Tell me that when you were in that accident you didn't think that the birth of that child meant we had no hope of ever being together." He sees her flinch against the truth in the words of his last statement and he knows he's right. "Tell me you don't love me and I'll get up and leave right now." He can feel her pulse racing under the finger he still has pressed against her wrist and he watches the tears well in her eyes. 

She wants to lie to him. She wants to send him back to the home he has always known. She wants to break this off before he breaks her but as she feels her resolve splintering she knows it's already too late. "It doesn't matter El." 

"It doesn't matter that you love me?" He squints at her to focus his perception.

She nods her head just once and when she blinks it pushes a fat tear onto her cheek.

"Say it Liv."

"No. I told you it doesn't matter anyway."

"What if I told you I want to hear you say it?" His voice drops so low she closes her eyes to keep from feeling it inside her.

"I don't really care what you want. I'm telling you it doesn't matter." She sounds more like a petulant child that a woman who is certain of her words. His thumb is stroking her wrist and she tells herself to pull her arm back but her body doesn't move. Another tear spills onto her face and she blinks to try to stop the flow. She hates crying and she has done more of it in the last three days than she has collectively in her entire life.

"It matters to me. It's everything to me." He decides it's enough pushing and he slowly picks up his fork with his free hand and once again begins eating. The emotion is filling his throat and he swallows hard to push everything down. He wonders what it will take to make her understand. In his peripheral vision he can see that she has started to eat as well. She stabs her fork awkwardly at her plate and it dawns on him that she's eating with her left hand because he's still holding her right one.

She doesn't trust herself to speak so she decides to eat. She doesn't want to let him go and she can't really explain, even to herself, why. He made a Mexican salad with chicken quesadillas and she should tell him it's good but she can't even lighten the conversation. The pained expression on his face makes her chest ache and she hates herself for hurting him. They eat in silence and after she works through about half of what he gave her she gently pulls her hand from his and stands.

"I'm going to lie down for a little while." Her head is throbbing but she's sure it's from the crying so she doesn't mention it to him. She just wants to be by herself where it's quiet enough to sort through her head. 

He holds his breath and waits for her to ask him to be gone when she gets up but she just studies him.

"Don't let me sleep more than an hour or I won't sleep tonight." He smiles then because for the time being she has at least stopped trying to make him leave. He doesn't comment on the fact he knows she isn't going to nap. He doesn't point out that she never naps. He merely accepts that this is the reason she's offering to have some space from him. 

"Okay, I'll come get you in an hour." He watches her back as she goes down the hall, his eyes drifting easily to her ass in those jeans. He feels a twist of guilt about how badly he wants her. She had been right about him. He _had_ thought that she would fall into bed with him after he told her he loved her. He had hoped it, dreamt it and fantasized about it. He's sure she noticed that he never did answer her question. 

Olivia pushes her door closed and strips off her jeans, shirt and bra. She pulls on an oversized old grey t-shirt that still says Columbia on it in faded letters. She's happy to be crawling between her own cool sheets. There's something to be said for the comfort of what's familiar. She lets herself relax and sink into the smooth cotton before opening her thoughts to let everything spill out. 

For the first time since the day she met him she lets herself think about what an actual relationship with him would be like. She pushes aside the fantasies, the guilt, the dating period and the work complications and just tries to imagine him in her life. She closes her eyes and tries to picture him standing in her kitchen in the early morning light. She can almost see him standing there leaning against the door frame with a steaming cup of coffee in his hands. She's watched him over the years so the visual comes easily. His hand comes up and rubs his face in that way that he does when he's tired. His chest flexes as he shifts and rearranges his weight and stance. His tattoos look black in the dim light and his pale grey sweat pants ride low on his hips but his eyes are as blue as the sky clearing in the window behind him. His bare foot lifts and rubs on the arch of his other foot before settling back to the floor. She imagines there's an edge to him even like this, before the day has wound him up. Her hips tip slightly and her eyes pop open. Damn it. This is the problem; she's always been attracted to the idea of him. If she puts herself in the kitchen with him she doesn't know what she would say. What would they be discussing? Why is he up so early? Did he just come from bed with her? Does he miss his son? Did he just get off shift from a bad case and a partner she doesn't know? All the options terrify her in one way or another. 

Her stomach twists and the tears start without her being fully aware. He said his heart had prioritized and chosen her. She felt the hope then and she knew that this gift he thought he was giving her had just fucked her completely. She had survived the accident only to be crushed two days later. She would have gotten over him. She would have walked away and eventually found a rhythm to her life. The problem is when she was figuring all that out he was supposed to be happy at home with his family. He was **not** supposed to be divorcing his wife, questioning his son's paternity and professing his love to her. She squeezes her eyes closed and burrows further into her bed. _Fuckfuckfuck._ How did she let things get so fucked up? She wants to reach inside herself and tear this whole mess out like some dark cancerous growth that has fingered its roots throughout her insides.

She wonders what advice her mother would have offered about this situation. To her knowledge her mother never had anyone tell her they were in love with her. She never had this choice in life. Olivia immediately feels guilty. Maybe she's being unreasonable in turning down the opportunity to love Elliot. Maybe it's worth it whether it lasts a week, a month or a year. Even if the end of it crushes her at least she'll have had the chance to experience it. That's more than most people get in a lifetime. It's certainly more than her mother ever had. Isn't this what she always fantasized about? Isn't this what she always wanted, to be loved? Could it possibly hurt any more than it does now? Now she's paying the price for something she never even got to have. Maybe, if he really means it, she should let herself go. Goose bumps run over her skin at the thought and she hugs herself tightly. Part of her thinks she may as well be driving directly into a wall. 

At least they would get it all out of their systems. They could try it and he could see that it wouldn't work between them and in the end it would be easier to accept. It could allow them to be friends again one day. 

She lets the idea of being with him grow just a little at a time inside her head until its big enough to be something she can grasp. When she pictures him in the kitchen this time she walks up and he opens his arms so she can slide hers around his waist and rest against him. This time she imagines asking him what has him lurking in the kitchen doorway and when he smiles and looks down at her he kisses her. The fire in her belly catches quickly and burns hot at the thought of him like this. She's wet and aching so she slips her hand between her legs and presses. Her hips rock in response. The ache in her chest sinks down until she can feel the throbbing need in her womb and between her lips. She climbs out of bed and stands there, deciding what to do. She pulls on her jeans because she no longer feels like sleeping or even resting. Obviously ruminating on Elliot is a dangerous thing. She heads into the bathroom and washes her hands, wanting to rinse away the scent of her own arousal. She gathers all her thoughts and weighs them against each other. 

Elliot does the dishes and puts the food away before settling onto the couch. He dials Kathy and is surprised there's no answer. He wonders if she's been released from the hospital and has already gone home with the baby. He wonders who the father of that child really is. He flips on the local news and knows from the headlines it's probably a slow day at work. The city seems to breathe in cycles of chaos that he can feel from the general climate of current events. He switches the channels around and tries not to think of her. He watches a few minutes of a basketball game that was prerecorded so he already knows who wins. He flips past cooking shows, animal programs, sports events, talk shows and a soap opera in Spanish before settling on The Price is Right. When he hears her in the bathroom it disturbs him. It's reminiscent of waiting for a jury to come back. If they show up too soon or take too long it can be equally as bad. He wonders what it means that she has emerged before the hour was over. He tries to take a deep breath so that he'll look relaxed but the air skips around in his lungs and is more like an awkward gasp. Somehow he knows as she walks into the room that this is it. She has found her way to whatever truth she holds and she's about to give it to him. The bottom drops from his stomach and his palms begin to sweat when he hears her from behind him.

"Elliot, I need to talk to you." 


	8. Chapter 8

Olivia wraps her arms around herself to stop the shaking

Chapter 8

Disclaimer: These characters are not mine.

Warning: Rating still applies, content is of an adult nature.

A/N: Thank to those of you following this story, I completely appreciate your time and support. As always your thoughts and comments are welcomed.

Olivia wraps her arms around herself to stop the shaking. She knows her efforts are futile because the trembling is coming from somewhere deep inside her. She knows what she needs to say to him but her lips won't form the words. It's against every carefully crafted self defense mechanism she's been honing since she was too young to even comprehend the reasons why. To allow herself to be truly vulnerable, even to him, is terrifying on a primal level. She thinks there was a time that she lived without walls but it was so long ago that now it feels more like a story she heard as a child than an actual memory. She wants to walk away, she does. She wants to turn and go back into her room and bury herself beneath the covers. She wants to escape but the screaming in her head won't stop, the sound of her own discontent is raging out of control. She moves her mouth to say the words but it's still just a motion and not a sound.

Elliot stands up from the other side of the sofa and walks toward her. Her hand comes up before he gets close. "Don't touch me Elliot. I can't think when you touch me and I need to say this." Her request doesn't hold much hope for him. His heart begins slamming in his chest, beating in a panic.

"After Gitano…" She licks her lips because her mouth has gone dry and her own voice sounds strange to her. "After Gitano you said that all you had left was your job and me." She sighs heavily from the exertion of having pushed these words from her head. "I have always been that for you, the thing that was left after everyone that mattered was gone. I remember days when you would be staring at me as though you were surprised I was beside you. For months at a time I was just this extension of you that you assumed would be there every day." She feels the tears again and this time it makes her angry because they're not for her, not about her. She wants to stop and for a second her eyes flutter over the doorway, mapping her escape but she doesn't move.

She wipes at her face and wraps her arms back around herself. "My life never contained anything to lose except you and my job, for me that's all that ever mattered." She's visibly trembling and he wants so badly to reach out and hold her that his step toward her is not even conscious on his part. Her hand comes up again. "No, Elliot just stay where you are."

Her voice cracks and his chest constricts with the sound. "I…I _can't_ afford to lose you. Even when I left, my world was still centered on SVU, my thoughts; my energy…all of it was still there. I can introduce myself as Persephone or Rachel Martin or computer crimes or FBI but in my head and in my heart I'm still detective Benson of SVU." Her train of thought is rambling on and she struggles to force it where she knows it has to go.

"Liv…" He looks more terrified in this moment than she has ever seen him on the street. "At least sit down, I won't touch you." The ache in his voice tells her everything about how he feels. She walks to the couch and sits in the corner, pulling her legs up and tucking her bare feet between the cushion for warmth. She wraps her arms across her breasts suddenly aware that she's braless under the ancient t-shirt. Her eyes study the knee of her jeans as she traces her thoughts back to find some semblance of order. Elliot carefully lowers himself at the opposite end of the sofa and turns off the television as he waits for her to continue.

"I was saying that I can't afford to lose you and I can't. You're not supposed to make permanent or life altering decisions after a trauma. We tell our victims that all the time. You don't go get a tattoo, or get married, or get divorced because post traumatic stress diminishes a persons ability to make a rational decision." Her voice is stronger as she uses words that are part of her job, something she knows as well as she knows herself. "You don't wake up after an accident and decide to divorce your wife and start seeing your partner. The accident…"

"Olivia, I wasn't in the accident. I don't have post traumatic stress. I had an epiphany." He watches her spine straighten and her face shift as though she has just learned that he wasn't in the car. She scrunches down her brow as she thinks and he realizes her tears have stopped. In her mind he was with her in the car, the sound of his voice had filled her ears, his wife had clutched her arm and his child had been born and put into her hands. What did he mean he wasn't in the car? He wasn't there physically but in every other aspect he was there.

"The point is that you could be wrong. You could think this is what you want because of everything that happened. What happens if in three months you change your mind? You're the one that told me that priorities change Elliot, remember? How did it go? Air, thirst and then hunger, your body determines it by need. Well, once all those needs are met, once your need for me is met then what will you want? To go home?" She shakes her head, her voice is higher now, the panic in her seeping into each word. "I can't take that. I only have you and if something were to happen, if I lost you somehow…I…I…I wouldn't survive it." She lifts her head and he sees the tears have returned but she isn't even aware of them anymore. Her dark eyes look haunted, pleading for him to understand. When she starts again her voice is a broken whisper, something glued back together and not quite right. "My heart doesn't have things to prioritize Elliot. It only has you." She drops her head and presses her forehead into her knee. She wants the noise in her head to stop, just stop for one moment so she can hear herself breathe.

He moves close enough to reach her but doesn't touch her. "Olivia, I can be an ass, I know I can and you of all people have had to bear the burden of my moods. You have every right to question my actions but you have to know I never would have said anything to you if I wasn't sure. Whether I'm here or not my marriage is still over and whether I'm here or not I'm still in love with you." He's tense from suppressing his impulses. His entire body feels like its wound too tightly just beneath his skin. A sob wrenches from her and it's the sound of something breaking, splintering like hard wood under too much pressure.

"Why Elliot, why now after I've spent so much time learning not to want you, not to need you?" She doesn't lift her head and her soft words and hot breath bounce against her leg.

"I'm going to touch you Liv." She starts to lift her head and his arms wrap around her. She gasps as he scoops her up, her toes popping from under the cushion as he swings her onto his lap. His lips drop next to her ear as he holds her tightly against him. "I'm sorry, I can't do anything about our past but I can love you now Liv. I can change our future." His voice is a whisper that sends a chill skipping down her spine. He's closed his eyes like he's telling her a secret he's been holding for too long. Sitting on her couch with her he feels their entire history stretched out behind him. He feels as though every moment of everything they have ever done together was to bring them to this time. "But you have to let me."

She's shaking again, her body vibrating with the trembling that she can't stop. His hand cups the side of her head and eases it toward his shoulder. She doesn't have anything left to fight him. All of her thoughts are coming apart in the heat of his nearness. She decides to rest against him for just a moment. Maybe she can absorb his heat and strength and be still for a little while. As she lets her head rest she sinks into him, the scent of him becoming her air. He's warmer here, where her nose presses into the firm column of his neck. His hand begins stroking her hair. Her knees bump together within his embrace as the shuddering continues through her. She wonders if this is how it feels to come apart, to be split like a tree struck by lightening still cracking and smoldering in the rain.

She tries to settle herself down, taking several deep breaths to clear her head. She thinks about the trip to the cemetery to visit to her mother and her breath catches. What will her life be like without him? When she ran in the past she always left the door open to come back. It was more like taking a break from him than leaving him. She had told her mother that she had fucked up by letting herself love him but how much damage will it do to her life if she walks away? When she thinks about what it would really be like to live without him her chest constricts and the pain in her neck creeps a few inches higher. What kind of person do you become when you abandon all hope of love? Her mother.

She feels her body begin to mold itself against him. She loves him. She lets the words tumble around inside her while she tries to rest. She's loved him for a long time. Despite his marriage, his children, his religious restrictions and the complications of their jobs she has somehow become part of him. Even with the dam she built he managed to find his way inside her. Each image of him that she came to know had seeped through her cracks one drop at a time until her head and heart were full of him.

A picture of him rubbing his hand over his face when he's tired or frustrated pops into her head. The quick grin he flashes when he's amused by her response to him. The muscle in his jaw that flexes when he's angry and waiting to speak his mind has beckoned to her to be touched. The bunching of his chest just before he looses control has tortured her. The mischievous twinkle in his eye when he's taunting her about one situation or another can spark a good mood in her. The questioning knit of his brow when a suspect gives an answer in interrogation that doesn't fit is sometimes mirrored in her own face. The boldness of his stride has kept her in rhythm with the world for years. She now watches for the softening of his eyes to watery blue in the first seconds that he sees a victim. It's always before his cop face has a chance to arrange itself over his features. The Stabler stance that he poses when he draws his body up into a wall of flesh and crosses his arms over his chest is a move she sees even in sleep. All of it has gotten to her. Each image is just a seconds tick on the clock over all these years. Each moment a trickle that has become a cool lake within her where she finds relief for her burning skin like a skinny dipper stealing a swim on a steaming summer night.

If she walks away she will dry up. Each memory of him will slowly evaporate from within her until she is a hollow brittle shell. Her skin will rasp with a papery dryness when she touches herself, thirsting for his touch instead. Her life will swelter with a devastating desert heat scattered with strange men that will be mere mirages of what she really needs. How can the survivor in her condemn herself to such a desolate future without him? It occurs to her then that her mother must have started drinking to try and appease the insistent thirst left behind in the wake of hopes departure.

Is this what she wants to become?

Even if a life with him is a disaster in the end, she would have at least tried. She could at least say she had tried this whole love thing with the one person that had a chance of making it a success. It would be complicated but most of her life is spent in the middle of complicated situations trying to calm the chaos. Loving him has always been complicated for her. She feels her anger flare at the thought because she doesn't want to believe that it matters that she loves him. She isn't a fairytale, happily ever after kind of woman. Life is hard and there really isn't much to believe in and even less to depend on other than your own abilities. How can she be expected to embrace the idea that everything will be okay just because they love one another? Is that supposed to carry them through the difficulties the way faith carries the religious? She's never been a woman that prayed. She's never been a woman that gathered any strength from beliefs. She's all about the facts.

The fact is that she loves him.

Her head throbs painfully.

He doesn't know how long he's been sitting there when she finally stills. It happens so slowly if he hadn't been aware of it he'd have missed it. Her shoulders drop a few inches first. He watches her knees tip as if in slow motion and feels the softening of her hip and side under his hand. Her trembling fades down to an anxious buzz before finally stalling. There's still an occasional twitch of resistance noticeable in her limbs. He loosens his grasp to give her legs some room. With her long limbs folded against her he's surprised at how small she seems in his arms.

He breathes slowly and tries to memorize the imprint of her body, the way every curve of her presses into him. He feels the heat pouring off her from the fear and the panic that combusted as she admitted to him that there was something out there that could break her. As she admitted that _loosing him_ could break her. Her hair and breath tickle his skin but he doesn't dare move. He feels her hand slip a little on the front of his shirt and wonders if she's fallen asleep.

He starts talking to her so softly it's just a wisp of sound within his breath. "Please Liv, just let me love you. We could have it all. We've come so far together; take this next step with me. I promise you I'll never take for granted that you're next to me again." He blinks slowly to stall the tears he doesn't want to let fall. He refuses to accept that it's too late for them. He looks down at her hand, at the cuts that are now healing on her palm. Her body has been through so much in the last few days and still it's already repairing itself. He hopes that somewhere inside her the pain he's caused her is healing too.

Her words from earlier burn in his thoughts because he knows they're true. He thought she would always be beside him. He didn't make any effort to keep her there. He knows there were days, weeks even that he hadn't paused amidst the chaos of his own life to ask how she was doing. When she left it was as though he had been sucker punched. It drove all the air from his body and left him gasping with frozen lungs. He should have paid more attention to her. He should have made some effort to keep their relationship afloat instead of just treading water. A long time ago he had told her she wasn't alone in the world and then he shut her out. He wonders how many things she struggled through that she had wanted to discuss with someone. He had abandoned her. Even worse, she didn't feel abandoned because she didn't feel like she had anyone. He had failed her. He can feel the acid in his stomach run as he thinks about it. Nausea rises and fills the back of his throat and for a second he thinks he's going to be sick. He breathes slowly and wills it to pass.

He has never been alone. He started a family with Kathy before he had even left his own. He was part of a unit in the military and part of the force right out of the academy. There has never been a time in his life that he didn't feel like he belonged. He can't imagine how it feels to have no one to turn to at all. The nurse's words come back to him, _failure to thrive._ He thinks of the late night commercials with children from other countries needing food. Their graying skin, thin limbs and protruding bellies are always partially covered in dirty clothes. Their dark eyes have shown up in his dreams mixed with victims from his own streets. For eighteen cents a day he could save the life of a child across the world. For risking his life on the streets he could save a child here. He wonders what it will take to see Olivia thrive.

She shifts slightly on his leg and he sighs in gratitude. He tightens his arm around her a little and is surprised when her hand slides up his chest and rests on his shoulder. He feels the soft puff of her breath on his neck and he knows if she was sleeping, she isn't anymore. He turns and places a kiss on her forehead. She sits up and brings her hand to his face, tracing his jaw and lips like a blind woman learning him through her fingertips. She still looks profoundly sad to him.

Olivia wants to quiet the fury of the panic inside her. It's too loud and she wants to remember these moments later with clarity. She wants to be able to recall every detail of his face, every nuance of his scent and every change in the landscape of his body. She's afraid that later all she will have is the sense that she felt safe in his arms, that his neck was warm and that her panic was raging out of control. If she's going to hurt later she thinks she should at least have something to take with her. Her finger tips move over the warm tender skin of his lips to his whiskered firm jaw. She tries to absorb the change in texture, the exact way his stubble drags across the pads of her fingers. The urge to taste him surges up within her with a frightening force. The impulse teeters dangerously on the edge of her thoughts, growing in momentum with every second that passes. She moves slowly, brushing her lips back and forth against his to confirm with her lips what her fingers told her. She cups the back of his head in her hand and nudges his lips apart with her own. Her tongue dips in and touches his, draws his flavor into her and goes back for more. She explores his mouth, kissing him gently and then deeply. The more she satisfies her need to kiss him the greater her desire to touch him grows.

Elliot thinks she's been trying to tell him that he has to go. He thinks that her comments about not being able to lose him mean she isn't willing to sacrifice who they are now for who they could become in the future. He freezes when she lifts her head to look at him because he's certain that the next word out of her mouth is going to be goodbye. When she touches his face he's sure it's coming, her fingers linger as though this will be the last time they touch his skin. The kiss surprises him. Her mouth seeks his with a languid intent that translates into something so sexy he can no longer think. He feels the heat from it spread down into his chest and belly as though she's breathing fire into him. He lets her take what she needs from him. As she tilts her head and deepens the kiss he feels his dick stir and stretch within his jeans. It presses into her thigh and still she doesn't stop.

Olivia feels his erection rise against her leg and her own answering arousal blooms in dampness between her thighs. This thing between them has always been intense but as she continues to kiss him she realizes all those years they tried to beat it into submission they had never even tamed it. She thinks briefly of stopping but the euphoric pleasure vibrating through her body is all consuming. The heat of him brushes over her skin and churns up from her center. Nothing survives it; not her panic, not her fear, not her self defense mechanisms. His hand slips under the edge of her t-shirt and rests on the flesh of her back. All her fantasies of him are obliterated with this one touch. They were visually amazing but as the feel of his hand is branded into her she knows they were without heat. The reality is scalding need crawling over her skin, emanating from ever inch of him. She's lost and the idea that she would have walked away from him feels impossible to her now. He's everything she's ever known of loving a man.

She rocks her leg against the bulge in his pants and his hips jerk beneath her. She stops kissing him long enough to get air and to show a flicker of a smile. She looks aroused, vulnerable and in the edges of that small smile, a little wicked. Elliot is stunned into silence at the sight of her. As much as he wants to move he knows these decisions are about her right now.

She wants to keep kissing him. This is important news to her because it's one of the ways she judges if she will keep seeing a man. If a date goes well the kiss is the next sign. Olivia can tell what kind of a lover a man will be by the way he kisses. She has eliminated a fair number of men after that first kiss because it was just all wrong.

Elliot's kisses leave her breathless, almost painfully aroused and yearning for more.

He watches her face shift as though she's made some small discovery and then she leans in to kiss him again. This time he's more responsive, answering her lips with a hunger of his own. He pulls back just slightly and sucks on her bottom lip. He strokes his tongue over it and nips it gently before stroking it once more. He moves his tongue against her then, in long even thrusts that change in tempo and pressure. A sound of pleasure rumbles in the back of her throat. It's a sound he has never heard before and his dick becomes painfully tight.

She knows this is how he'll feel inside her and her body throbs with the aching need to let him take her. She's shocked at how good it feels to stop pushing against something that now feels like an immovable mountain. There's an unexpected relief, a feeling of freedom and loss of control all at once that is reminiscent of when she kicked the shit out of Thatcher. She starts to smile and draws away from his mouth for a moment. She looks at him long enough for him to know she's okay before tucking her head into his neck and laughing softly. Her own spectacular loss of control is opening to a nervous almost giddy laughter, or it occurs to her it could be hysteria. She's been kissing Elliot and the very act of it means she has run blindly past half the rules that have governed her life for most of the last decade. She must have hit her head harder than she thought because this is sheer insanity. She's spiraling into an unknown abyss.

Freefalling without a safety net.

Risking everything.

For him.

Maybe the crushing sound she heard during the accident wasn't the car at all. Maybe it was her world crashing down, or at the very least her walls. The question now is whether she will be crushed or freed by the destruction.

She feels herself arch toward him as he kisses her again. His tongues rhythm feels both familiar and foreign and the ambiguity of it makes her dizzy. All of this is making her dizzy.

Elliot can't get enough of her. She's responsive and submissive in one moment and dominant and aggressive in the next. He drops his head to the side of her face and kisses the fading bruise along her jaw. He moves his mouth down and pulls aside her t-shirt and begins peppering the purple line from her seatbelt with barely there kisses. His breath is hot on her skin as his lips graze and hover over the injured area. He moves with such tenderness she has to close her eyes against the bright intensity of the moment. He stops as his lips hit the edge of her shirt and he eases back up her neck.

"Olivia, does this mean…? Are you…? Are we…?" She laughs softly; actually laughs and he can feel the vibration of it in his body. His face is a mixture of curiosity and anxiety and she decides to ease what she can.

"For right now let's just say that I'm not going to kick you out." There is something in her that he doesn't know. After all these years it's an expression that is completely new to him. He wonders if it's new to her too. He can't place it but it causes a ball of heat to unfurl in his chest.

He knows they should stop. He doesn't want this to be something that ends up being too big for them too soon. He also thinks her head needs a few more days to heal. He knows they should stop but every cell in his body wants to keep going.

His lips capture hers again. He tells himself it's just one more small taste of her so he can commit every detail of it to memory. She tilts her head back and to the side, letting him thrust deeply and relaxing into it. Even as she's giving part of herself to him she's taking something too. His hand is moving over the smooth skin of her back. Every inch of flesh he touches feels like its new as though the contact itself is waking her body from some deep slumber. Her need becomes a hungry beast within her, restlessly pacing the floor of its cage and roaring to be fed.

She settles her hand on the back of his neck and tugs him closer to her as she rocks her hips in a subtle dance of desire. She can feel her heat between her thighs and his rising from his lap against the back of her legs.

He pulls back from her enough to look her in the eyes. "We should stop now before this goes any further."

Her heart pauses and her thoughts twist as she tries to understand what he's saying. "Why?" How could he bring her this far to tell her he doesn't want this?

"Olivia, I want this to be right between us. I'm afraid if we keep going it's going to be too much for us to handle all at once and tomorrow it will all come crashing down. I want to do this right. Let's spend some time together getting used to the idea."

She sighs in relief that he's talking about the sex and not the relationship. There's already a new dialect in the way they communicate that they'll have to learn. "We've been spending time together for eight years, just how much time do you think we need?" Her voice is deep with the weight of her desire and the liquid quality is something he's never heard from her before this moment. It makes him think of warm honey and a line from an old rock song pops into his head, _pour some sugar on me_. She turns slightly in his arms and the hard points of her breast rub against him through her thin t-shirt.

Why is he surprised? Olivia seduces like she does everything else in her life, full of confidence, passion and direction. She moves again and his hand flinches on her back with the urge to slide around and cup the weight of her breast in his palm. His eyes flit from her breast to her bruise and back up to her face.

"You just got out of the hospital. I'm supposed to be making sure you get enough rest not starting a sex marathon." The words just fall from his lips and he watches hers curve into a slow sexy as hell smile.

"A marathon, huh?" Her voice has dropped even lower and his eyes are now fixed on her lips in fascination. "So, don't you think we should at least train for this marathon?" Her thigh is once again rubbing against his cock and he gasps as his balls tighten.

"Olivia…" His voice breaks as he says her name so he pauses to try and gather himself. "Olivia, you're in no shape…"

His words stop as she pivots on his lap and straddles his thighs. Now that she has accepted the possibility of this between them, now that she has unleashed her desire for him she doesn't want to stop.

Her breasts are right there, _right there _in front of him swaying slightly against the soft cotton of her shirt. She rocks forward and he feels her ass tighten just before her hips rock into his throbbing dick. For one horrible second he thinks he's going to come and his whole body freezes. She takes his hands and places them on her breasts. "Look I feel fine." She's smiling at her own pun and leaning into his hands until her mouth is next to his ear.

"Elliot, how many times have you thought about this?" Her voice purrs over his ear, into the short hair on his neck and slips down his spine. His hips push into her automatically. It isn't until she moans that he realizes his hands are massaging her breasts. Her nipples are pressing into his palm as he molds her flesh. He moves his right hand over and allows his thumb to flick over the tight bud. Her knees and thighs tighten around his hips and she grinds herself against him, hard.

She moves back and looks at him and suddenly sees him, _Elliot_. Her need and panic both flutter rapidly within her like the frantic beating of a moth's wings as it circles the flame. She has wanted him for so long but she's been able to stay away by convincing herself that having him would destroy her. He's promising her that they could have a chance at a future. His hands keep moving on her breasts and she aches for him. Elliot is touching her. A hard shudder rattles her frame and he pauses.

"Hey, are you okay?" The concern is back and it brings his control with it. His hands fall to her hips and hold her still while he studies her face. "Let's slow this down so it doesn't combust."

"This or you?" She glances down at his bulging jeans and back up at him with her brow raised and a smile tugging at her lips. In that instant he knows her again, the glance, the look, the brow and that smile she gives him when she's jerking him around are all familiar.

"Both." He smiles but before long it grows into slow laughter.

She knows he's right, wanting him is one thing, having him is another. It's Elliot. There's a lot to figure out in all this. "Maybe we should wait until your divorce is final."

He stops because he wasn't thinking about the fact that he was still married. He hadn't really felt married even after he moved back to the house. It was more like he had just moved back to help. Olivia's right, the lines needed to be clear. She deserves to have it all be clean for her.

"Jesus Liv, I'm sorry. You're right, I'm still married and I need to be free for us to be together." In his own mind he knows it will be easier for her if he ends the marriage. Then she can see that this isn't just a reaction to trauma or passing flirtation.

"Easy Elliot. It's not like you'd be the first married guy I slept with." As soon as the words leave her mouth she wants to suck them back. A dark look tightens his features and she decides to keep going before he can react. "I didn't mean that the way it sounded. I just meant that since you're the one that's married that's really more your issue than mine. Still, I have enough respect for your situation to honor whatever you decide. Since you think we should slow this down, we will." He feels her clench her thigh muscles and realizes it's not to excite him but to control herself. She slides off his lap and perches next to him.

His hands rest on his thighs where just a moment ago he was holding her. His dick is still hard. "I have a question for you." He looks at his lap again and it seems he's still surprised she isn't sitting there.

"What?" She already has her thoughts on a shower so she can ease the pressure he left pulsing between her legs.

"What's your idea of slowing this down?" She thinks he's tempting fate, tempting her so she decides to intervene.

She leans over him and grasps his dick through his pants. "Somewhere between here…" She strokes firmly and feels his cock press back into her hand and a deep rumble churns in his chest.

"…and here." When his mouth opens in surprise she kisses him with enough heat to set them both on fire. She releases him and by the time he recovers she's off the sofa and headed into the shower. A moment later when he hears the water go on he's still sitting there staring.


	9. Chapter 9

Her ferocious need for him is still reverberating through her body as she steps into the shower

Failure to Thrive Chapter 9

Disclaimer: They are not mine and if they're ever given to me you'll know because this show will immediately have to go to a cable network for the content rating.

Warning: Still sexually explicit enough to require a 'for mature readers only' label.

A/N: Thanks to those of you that have remained loyal to this story after so long. I seem to be getting back in the grove so there will be more to come. As always your comments are welcomed and greatly appreciated.

Her ferocious need for him is still reverberating through her body as she steps into the shower. Jesus, despite all the crushing complications she wants him to fuck her until he drives that aching pulse out of her depths. Even as she slides her hand between her legs she knows the orgasm she's reaching for is not going to settle her. Her desire for him has exploded and left her a hollow shell throbbing in anticipation of his filling her. Her fingers sink inside her wet folds and she immediately begins stroking herself. The feel of him is still on her skin, in her mouth. She licks her lips to taste him and her hand moves faster. When the fingers of her other hand begin tugging at her nipple she feels the coil within her begin to tighten.

She pictures him sitting on the sofa when she was straddling his lap but in her mind he's naked. She remembers the moment she arched her hips against his erection while she presses on her clit and her thighs tremble with the beginning of her orgasm. Her body arches and shudders in the humid air, clenching around her fingers in spasms of pleasure. A small whimper escapes her but it's rooted more in her frustration than her pleasure. It isn't enough and it won't be until it's him.

She turns into the cold tile trying to ease the heat pouring off of her skin. She presses her cheek, breasts and hips firmly against the shiny ceramic squares. She was freezing all morning and now she's on fire, on fire from the heat of him. She lets the cool surface leech some of the heat from her skin before turning around and pressing her back into the wall. She forces herself to stand under the water and begins washing her hair. She can't stop the huge smile on her face which is odd because she's not a woman that is inclined to standing around grinning like an idiot. She starts laughing softly and it releases a feeling in her chest like champagne bubbles that make her laugh harder. She has that feeling again, wild and free, all at once falling and flying.

This is crazy, to feel this way is completely crazy. She's going to crash and burn and it's going to make that accident feel like a walk in the park. The panic prickles her skin but does not take hold. She doesn't even know what to make of the whole situation. She's spent all her life fighting. She's fought against injustice and abuse on her job. She's fought against violence and alcoholism in her genes. She's fought against discrimination and prejudice in her career. Perhaps it's time she fought _for_ something. Perhaps it's time she fought for something that is purely for her. More than anything she's afraid of wanting this because life has taught her that the key to avoiding disappointment is to not have any expectations.

She finishes in the shower and steps out, now wondering what she's going to say to Elliot. For the first time since she met him she's unsure of how to act. She dries herself off and looks at herself in the mirror. She can see the edges of the bruises have changed which means that her body is trying to heal. She has that giddy feeling again and that in itself is throwing her off because she just isn't used to it. She knows he thinks that waiting for the divorce to be final is an act of nobility on his part but that isn't what matters to her. She needs some type of assurance from him that this is real and solid. He signed the papers and went back before so the paperwork isn't the issue. He's the issue. Trust is the issue.

She tucks the towel around herself and walks out of the bathroom running her hand through the last of the tangles in her hair. She's going to call to Elliot to make some iced tea while she dresses but when she reaches the end of the hallway she sees him still sitting exactly where she left him.

"Hey El will you make some iced tea while I'm getting dressed?" He starts as though he has been deep in thought and gets up and heads to the kitchen.

"Sure would you…" He stops walking and talking as soon as he sees her. She's in a towel, nothing but a towel. His fingers ache with a yearning to graze over terry cloth. He stares at her, his eyes roaming slowly down and then back up her form.

When his eyes at last come to rest on hers she smiles. "Would I what?"

He has forgotten that he was speaking. He has forgotten what he could have possibly been about to say because right now the only words in his head are _holy shit. _She's damp and tan and only wearing a towel and he can no longer think or breathe. His dick however is working.

She asked him something and he was responding. What did she come out here and say? His eyes keep dropping down to her long bare legs. He watches her weight shift from one to the other and knows she must be growing impatient but when he looks back up she's more amused than anything. Just as she arches her brow at him in question he remembers, the tea.

"I was asking if you wanted regular or raspberry, I'll make a pitcher." He's pleased with himself for calling up the question while she has him so distracted so he's grinning.

"Raspberry sounds good, thanks." She turns to walk away and because she knows he's watching just before she reaches the door she loosens the towel so it drops down to her hips. She hears him gasp as she walks into her room and closes the door.

It was intentional, the towel and he knows it and she did it because she knew he would be looking. His brain is like a skipping disk playing the scene over and over. The movement of her shoulder blades framing the line of her back down to the dimples sitting at the rise of her ass. He feels light headed and thinks it could actually be from the immediate rush of blood to his dick.

He wonders how long it will take him to get his paperwork through. The flicker of excitement over his divorce papers causes a rush of guilt. He still has to go talk to his children and he wants to see the baby for a little while. At the same time he has no desire to leave Olivia right now. He's afraid if she has time to think it through by the time he returns she'll be back to driving him away. Still, he has to go; he owes it to them to be honest. He runs the cold water and searches the cupboards until he finds a pitcher. He takes four cold brew bags and dips them into the water, looping their strings around the handle and placing the whole thing in the fridge. He wonders how it would feel to have this simple domestic life with her.

He chuckles then because he knows nothing about her will ever be simple and although the word domestic came into his head the image that pops up with it is purely pornographic. He has to get his hard on to settle down but he's sure that if he asks to take a shower right now it'll look suspicious. The last time he had to think about relieving himself in the middle of the day because his dick kept getting hard he was just a teenager. It seems as though now that he has given himself permission to think of her in a sexual way, he can't stop.

Olivia dresses slowly, a little embarrassed by her own brazen behavior. She hears Elliot talking softly in the other room and realizes he must be calling home. Home. He has a home and five children. He has a newborn that he should be with right now. Reality slams into her with a force great enough to shake her. Even if how he feels about her is real he still has a wife and family. She needs to convince him that it's okay to go spend some time with them. She takes a deep breath and pulls a sweat shirt over her head. Despite her shower she thinks she can still smell him on her.

Every thought she has feels weighted with ambiguity. It will do her good to have some time to herself to relax without the idea of him all over her.

He knows the moment she comes into the room that she has mentally shifted. He's glad that something in the way she carries herself tells him that she's feeling stronger.

"Did I hear you on the phone?" She goes to the fridge and pours herself some of the tea, pausing to drop ice into the glass before turning back to him.

"Yeah, I called to talk to the kids for a few minutes." He doesn't hesitate or hide it and she appreciates that he isn't tip toeing around the topic.

"You should go home and spend some time with them. I'm sure they're confused by everything that's going on right now." She sounds concerned without being pushy and isn't sure how to read her. He watches her for a moment so she decides to continue. "It's okay El, I'm okay. You need to talk to your wife and kids. I'm not going anywhere." She smiles reassuringly at him and sees his shoulders relax a few inches. He steps in front of her but doesn't touch her yet.

"Are you sure you're okay because you looked like you were okay the last time I walked away from you and I couldn't have been more wrong." He isn't being malicious, just honest and she thinks he's needed to comment on that situation.

"I said that I'm fine and you're just going to have to take my word for it. I'm not your responsibility Elliot." Her voice is deceptively soft for the weight of the feelings behind it. He closes the last step between them and gently brushes her bangs from her eyes so he can see her bruise. He barely brushes his lips over it before placing a kiss in the center. The tenderness makes her ache deep in her core.

"This scared me Olivia. I can't spare you. My actions are as much for my own protection as they are for yours." Her anger and defenses deflate at his words. His lips brush her temple and sprinkle kisses down her jaw to her other bruise. When his tongue slides over the darkened flesh she grasps his waist.

His hands stroke down her arms and he can feel her tremble. "Liv, if this is too much for you…" He holds his breath looking at her.

"No, it isn't that. It's just that I can't afford to be wrong and I'm not sure if what you feel is real." Her eyes have gone almost black and the light in them moves. He thinks of quicksilver sliding effortlessly across a smooth surface as he watches her. He leans in then and grazes his lips over hers. He lets the heat of them leap between their lips as he passes back and forth. His touch takes her back to the beginning when everything was new and the only connection between them was the electricity.

He presses his lips on her now, barely tasting her. He's reminding her of how it felt to know there was this energy between them as his tongue slides over her lips and he nips at the fullness of her lower one. All those years the sparks danced between the two of them and they found their perfect rhythm without touching.

He touches her now though.

His hand slides up her neck and cups her head so he can pull her closer to him. His whole body reaches for her as she spreads her lips and he sweeps his tongue into her mouth. He lets it grow between them as it always has while he kisses her with every kind of want he's ever felt for her.

He knows the instant she surrenders to it and begins kissing him back. Her mouth slants across his no longer receiving but seeking. Her hands slide around him greedily seeking the firm planes of his back. As impossibly strong as he's always felt next to her she never imagined he'd feel this solid against her. The thought of how powerful he'll feel inside her flutters into her brain and she grows wet with anticipation.

The kiss deepens and she fights the fear and arousal swirling within her. She pulls away from his mouth and tucks her head against his neck to catch her breath. The wall of his chest rises hard against her breasts and she thinks she can feel his heart pounding although it may just be her own.

"You should go El. It's okay; I understand that you have obligations." She wishes she sounded stronger but every gasp of air she takes is filled with him. The astounding part for her is how completely she doesn't want to pull away.

"When I come back later will I have to pound on the door until the neighbors threaten to call the police?" He feels her stiffen in his arms but she doesn't pull away. He feels her breath hot on his neck and begins smoothing his hand down her back to reassure her.

"No." She knows she probably owes him more than this simple answer but her words are stuck inside her head.

"Will you be here when I get back?" It's the question he really wanted to ask and both of them know it as soon as it leaves his lips.

She knows she deserves that but it doesn't make it any easier to take. She pulls out of his grasp and he braces himself for her reaction, an explosion or at least total shut down should be headed his way. He's surprised that she remains standing right in front of him and waits until he's looking at her again. She seems to study him for a moment before walking away. His head drops in defeat and he wonders if being an impulsive asshole is an actual mental condition.

His head jerks up when she touches his hand because he wasn't even aware she had come back into the room. She doesn't say anything; she just lifts his hand in her and presses something into his palm. It takes him a moment to get it. He's underestimated her once again. A slow smile spreads across his face as he looks at her.

"Okay?" She looks at him with her eyes wide waiting for him to acknowledge that he understands.

"Okay." He leans down and kisses her cheek. "I'll be back in a little while. Call me if you need anything."

"You can pick up dinner on your way back." She smiling at him now, relieved.

"Okay, I'll call you when I'm leaving the house so think about where you want me to stop." His hand cups her jaw, his thumb brushing over her cheek. "Thank you." He knows it was a step for her, a step toward him. His other hand squeezes her keys before dropping them into his pocket. He pulls on his jacket and flashes her one last grin before disappearing out the door.

Tbc…


End file.
